THE  CONFESSIONS  AND 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 
HARRY  ORCHARD 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 

SAN  DIEGO 


THE  CONFESSIONS  AND 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 
HARRY  ORCHARD 


4 


HARRY   ORCHARD 
From  a  picture  taken  at  the  Boise  Penitentiary  in  May,  1907. 


THE  CONFESSIONS 

AND  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 

HARRY  ORCHARD 


ILLUSTRATED    WITH    PHOTOGEAPHS 

NEW  YORK 

THE  McCLURE  COMPANY 
MCMVII 


Copyright,  1907,  by  The  McClure  Company 


Published,  December,  1907 


Copyright,  1907,  by  The  S.  S.  McClure  Company 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PACK 

I.  MY  EARLY  LIFE  IN  ONTARIO    ....  3 

II.  UNION  RULE  IN  THE  CCEUR  D'ALENES    .       .  16 

III.  WE  BLOW  UP  THE  BUNKER  HILL  MILL    .        .  30 

IV.  I  Go  TO  LIVE  IN  CRIPPLE  CREEK  ...  48 
V.    THE  BIG  STRIKE  OF  1903 55 

VI.    THE  MILITIA  COME  TO  CRIPPLE  CREEK        .     63 

VII.    THE  EXPLOSION  IN  THE  VINDICATOR  MINE  .     68 

VIII.     MY  FIRST  VISIT  TO  HEADQUARTERS        .       .     88 

IX.     How  WE  TRIED  TO  ASSASSINATE  GOVERNOR 

PEABODY         .       .       .       .       .       .       .   110 

X.    THE  SHOOTING  OF  LYTE  GREGORY  BEFORE 

THE  CONVENTION  .       .       ...       .   122 

XI.    How  WE  BLEW  UP  THE  INDEPENDENCE  DEPOT 

DURING  THE  CONVENTION  .       .       .       .129 

XII.    How  I  WENT  TO  SAN  FRANCISCO  AND  BLEW 

UP  FRED  BRADLEY 149 

XIII.     OUR  FIRST  BOMB  FOR  GOVERNOR  PEABODY, 

AND  OTHER  BOMBS  FOR  STREET  WORK  .   167 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIV.     OUR  FURTHER  PLANS  FOR  GOVERNOR  PEABODY 
AND  How  I  SET  BOMBS  FOR  JUDGES  GOD- 

DARD   AND   GABBERT 181 

XV.     How  I  STARTED  AFTER  GOVERNOR  STEUNEN- 

BERG 196 

XVL     THE  ASSASSINATION  OF  GOVERNOR  STEUNEN- 

BERG 206 

XVII.    MY  EXPERIENCE  IN  JAIL  AND  PENITENTIARY  224 
XVIII.     MY  REASON  FOR  WRITING  THIS  BOOK  .  251 


vi 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

HARRY  ORCHARD  IN  1907  ....      Frontispiece 

EXECUTIVE  BOARD  OF  THE  WESTERN  FEDERATION     FAPAG° 
OF  MINERS  IN  1905 92 

JAMES  H.  PEABODY 118 

STEVE  ADAMS 150 

THE  Two  STEUNENBERG  BOMBS 208 

FRANK  STETJNENBERG 218 

HARRY  ORCHARD  IN  1906 226 

JAMES  MCPARLAND  .  230 


A  PERSONAL  NOTE  OF  INTRODUCTION 

BY    EDWIN    S.    HINKS, 

Dean  of  St.  Michael's  Cathedral,  Boise,  Idaho 

IN  the  month  of  June,  1906,  I  first  met  the  au- 
thor of  this  autobiography.  About  six  months 
prior  he  had  made  his  full  confession  of  crime, 
which  was  again  given  on  the  witness-stand.  He 
wrote  the  account  of  his  life,  by  his  own  volition, 
during  the  last  half  of  the  year  of  1906,  telling  me 
many  times  that  his  object  was  to  present  a  warn- 
ing to  all  who  might  read  it  against  taking  the  first 
steps  in  a  path  of  reckless  living  that  so  rapidly 
ends  in  ruin. 

As  I  comprehend  the  transformation  of  Harry 
Orchard  from  reckless  criminality  to  a  penitent  will- 
ing to  tell  the  truth,  I  feel  that  the  world  should 
understand  that  his  change  of  front  was  not  in  the 
order  of  religious  conversion,  then  moral  percep- 
tion, leading  to  confession.  No!  it  seems  to  me  the 
order  was  first  physical,  second  moral,  and  finally 
religious. 

He  was  wretched  behind  stone  walls,  lonely  as  cut 
ix 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

off  from  freedom  and  old  associations;  hence  he 
fairly  craved  the  sympathy  which  he  got  in  the  un- 
burdening of  his  mind  to  McParland.  He  told  me 
that  at  first  he  only  told  a  little  of  the  truth,  and 
that  several  days  passed  before  he  divulged  in  full. 

This  confession,  to  my  mind,  evinces  the  first  real, 
moral  change  in  the  man.  He  has  told  me  that; 
though  he  had  never  in  his  life  doubted  the  existence 
of  a  God,  and  positively  believed  in  a  future  state, 
still  he  thought  himself  to  be  beyond  forgiveness. 

He  sat  from  week  to  week  brooding  on  his  lost 
condition,  convinced  that  a  murderer  could  not  be 
forgiven ;  and  he  had  read  the  Bible  which  had  been 
sent  to  him  from  the  East,  searching  for  light  when 
I  first  met  him. 

He  had  attended  the  Sunday  afternoon  services 
at  the  penitentiary  a  few  times,  when  he  expressed 
a  desire  for  me  to  visit  him. 

Almost  immediately  he  came  to  the  point  on  which 
he  desired  my  expression  of  opinion,  based  on  the 
words  of  Scripture:  Was  he,  as  a  murderer,  shut 
out  from  hope  of  God's  forgiveness? 

I  explained  to  him  that  neither  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment nor  in  the  New  Testament  Scriptures  was  there 
a  single  word  to  preclude  a  penitent  from  an  hon- 
est approach  to  God,  whose  forgiveness  and  par- 
don are  full  and  free.  I  have  only  sorrow,  not  con- 
x 


A  PERSONAL  NOTE  OF  INTRODUCTION 

tempt,  for  those  who  make  distinctions  in  the  Ten 
Commandments. 

I  know  that  "  all  unrighteousness  is  sin "  with 
God,  and  am  sure  that  many  persons  need  to  re- 
adjust their  notions  who  play  fast  and  loose  with 
commandments  seven  and  eight,  with  the  delusive 
idea  that  when  God  gave  the  ten  laws  he  made  mur- 
der worse  than  adultery  and  dishonesty.  I  believe 
in  the  love  of  a  forgiving  God,  and  as  the  Scrip- 
ture defines  God  in  this  one  word,  "  Love,"  I  firmly 
believe  in  that  radical  change  as  possible  for  Or- 
chard as  for  the  thief  on  the  Cross  of  Calvary. 

I  would  hardly  go  to  Balzac  for  theology  or  doc- 
trine, but  I  quote  him  in  the  following  words :  "  One 
thought  borne  inward,  one  prayer  uplifted,  one 
echo  of  the  Word  within  us,  and  our  souls  are  for- 
ever changed." 

I  believe  in  conversion,  no  matter  how  it  comes, 
nor  to  whom.  I  know  it  comes,  sometimes  quickly, 
at  other  times  slowly,  and  that  a  man  may  be  a  devil 
to-day,  and  next  week  a  man  clothed,  and  in  his 
right  mind. 

To  me  the  New  Testament  is  the  world's  greatest 
classic,  and  the  Central  Figure  stands  there  present- 
ing to  us  the  man  dominated  by  the  devil  of  his  own 
lower  self,  a  companion  with  hogs,  sunken  to  the 
lowest  level. 

xi 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

Then  does  not  Jesus  Christ  draw  the  vivid  picture 
of  the  man  "  coming  to  himself,"  and  would  the 
scene  be  anything  at  all  if  it  did  not  portray  the 
open  arms  of  love  ready  to  forgive?  Some  say  that 
Orchard  should  never  have  confessed,  that  he  should 
have  concealed  any  connection  of  others  with  his 
crime,  or  crimes.  Presuming  that  he  did  "  come  to 
himself,"  with  a  terrific  sense  of  responsibility  to 
his  Maker,  and  with  an  oath  on  his  lips  to  tell  the 
"  whole  truth,"  what  could  he  do,  and  what  would 
you  do?  We  must  look  at  this  with  right  focus. 
What  a  wonderful  tribute  to  the  genuineness  of 
Christianity  is  discerned  in  the  fact  that  when  the 
devils  "  Hogan  "  and  "  Orchard  "  had  gone  out  of 
Albert  E.  Horsley,  that  he  believed  implicitly  in 
the  devotion  of  that  noble,  Christian  wife  whom  he 
had  deserted  nine  years  ago  in  Canada,  with  a  seven- 
months  old  baby  in  her  arms. 

He  counted  upon  her  fidelity  and  single  devotion ; 
he  was  banking  upon  her  forgiveness,  and  he  got  it. 
I  have  seen  some  of  her  letters,  and  have  personally 
met  her,  and  I  am  sure  that  nothing  but  the  super- 
human power  of  Jesus  Christ  can  account  for  the 
calm,  sustained  spirit  in  this  true,  earnest  wife, 
who  has  suffered  so  keenly  since  the  truth  came  to 
her. 

My  conclusions  as  to  the  honesty  and  present 
xii 


A    PERSONAL    NOTE    OF    INTRODUCTION 

truthfulness  of  Albert  E.  Horsley  are  based  upon 
my  experience  with  human  beings.  I  would  not 
know  how  to  make  a  psychologic  test,  according 
to  the  accepted  scientific  method,  but  I  was  gratified 
that,  when  Professor  Munsterberg,  of  Harvard,  had 
spent  eight  hours  with  Orchard,  using  every  art 
known  to  his  deep  profession,  he  pronounced  him 
to  be  normal,  honest,  frank,  and  straightforward. 

In  conclusion,  I  would  say  that  any  kind  of  pub- 
licity is  objectionable  to  me,  and  that  my  associa- 
tion with  this  matter  was  not  of  my  seeking,  but 
accidentally  came  in  the  line  of  my  duty.  I  sincerely 
trust  that  ere  long  the  crimes  of  organized  capi- 
tal and  organized  labor  may  cease.  My  deepest  in- 
terest and  sympathy  lies  with  the  honest  wage- 
earner,  possibly  in  large  sense  from  a  fellow-feeling. 
I  know  laborers  where  per  diem  pay  exceeds  my  own. 

I  pray  for  the  day  when  capital  and  labor  shall 
be  fair  with  one  another,  and  when  the  men  who 
pay  out  money  shall  be  able  to  strike  hands  in  fel- 
lowship with  the  American  Federation  of  Labor,  and 
when  justice,  fairness,  and  confidence  shall  take  the 
place  of  suspicion,  doubt,  and  variance,  with  the 
fraternal  peace  of  heaven  spreading  its  white  wings 
above  the  discord  of  God's  family  on  earth. 

It  will  never  come  until  Christianity  enters  into 
the  souls  of  those  who  pay  out  money,  as  well  as 
xiii 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

into  the  souls  of  those  who  receive  it,  and  the  rug- 
ged manhood  of  the  Carpenter  of  Nazareth  is  ac- 
cepted as  the  only  standard  worth  considering. 

EDWIN  S.  HINKS, 

Dean  of  St.  Michael's  Cathedral, 

Boise,  Idaho. 


THE  CONFESSIONS  AND 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY  OF 
HARRY  ORCHARD 


CHAPTER    ONE 

MY   EARLY    LIFE    IN    ONTARIO 

I  WAS  born  in  Northumberland  County,  Ontario, 
Canada,  on  the  18th  of  March,  1866.  My  real 
name  is  Albert  E.  Horsley.  My  father  was  born 
of  English  parents,  and  my  mother  of  Irish.  I  was 
brought  up  on  a  farm  and  received  a  common-school 
education,  but  as  my  parents  were  poor,  I  had  to 
work  as  soon  as  I  was  old  enough.  I  never  advanced 
farther  than  the  third  grade.  I  was  one  of  a  family 
of  eight  children,  consisting  of  six  daughters  and 
two  sons. 

While  we  were  poor  and  had  to  work  for  a  living, 
we  always  had  plenty  and  dressed  respectably.  The 
country  was  prosperous,  and  poverty  was  a  thing 
almost  unheard  of  in  the  country  at  that  time.  Most 
everybody  worked  there  at  that  time,  either  for 
themselves  or  for  some  one  else,  as  the  chief  industry 
there  was  farming;  and  the  people  were  happy  and 
contented.  The  cost  of  living  there  then  was  much 
less  than  it  is  to-day,  and  the  people  dressed  and 
lived  much  plainer  then  than  now. 
3 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

I  was  brought  up  to  love  and  fear  God  and  to 
believe  in  a  hereafter.  My  parents  usually  attended 
church,  and  I  was  sent  to  Sunday-school  and  church, 
and  always  had  to  observe  the  Sabbath,  as  there  was 
no  manner  of  work  practised  there  on  the  Sabbath 
except  chores  about  the  farms  that  were  necessary 
to  be  done.  Most  of  the  people  in  that  section  of 
the  country  belonged  to  some  church  and  usually 
attended  it  on  Sunday. 

I  was  next  to  the  oldest  of  our  family,  and  my 
brother  next  to  the  youngest.  We  bought  a  small 
farm  when  I  was  about  ten  years  old,  and  I  and  my 
sisters  used  to  work  and  help  father  all  we  could, 
as  we  used  to  raise  garden  truck  for  market.  I  used 
to  work  on  the  farm  summers  and  go  to  school  win- 
ters. As  soon  as  I  was  old  enough,  I  used  to  work 
out  for  some  close  neighbor,  sometimes  by  the  day 
and  sometimes  by  the  month,  but  my  parents  always 
got  the  benefit  of  my  work  until  I  was  past  twenty 
years  old.  When  working  away  from  home,  I  always 
looked  forward  to  Sunday,  as  I  would  have  a  chance 
to  go  home  and  spend  the  Sabbath  with  my  folks, 
and  they  always  looked  for  us  on  that  day  if  we  were 
away  from  home.  It  makes  me  feel  sad  now  when  I 
look  back  over  those  happy  days  and  think  espe- 
cially of  our  dear  loving  mother  and  the  anxiety  she 
had  for  our  welfare,  and  the  many  hard,  weary  days 
4 


MY    EARLY    LIFE    IN    ONTARIO 

she  toiled  and  worked  and  underwent  many  priva- 
tions for  us,  as  a  loving  mother  will  do  for  her  fam- 
ily. We  may  not  have  had  as  nice  clothes  as  some 
of  our  neighbors,  but  they  were  always  clean  and 
neatly  mended.  I  always  loved  my  mother  very  much 
and  thought  I  was  good  to  her,  but  I  can  look  back 
now  and  see  that  I  did  not  love  her  half  as  much  as 
she  did  me,  and  I  might  have  been  much  better  to 
her.  My  dear  mother  is  dead  and  gone  many  years 
ago,  and  I  am  glad  in  my  heart  on  her  account  that 
she  never  lived  to  see  me  where  I  am  to-day.  My 
father  also  died  since  I  left  home. 

When  I  was  about  twenty-one  years  old,  I 
thought  I  ought  to  keep  whatever  money  I  earned 
myself,  as  my  parents  were  not  able  to  give  me  any- 
thing, and  they  did  not  object,  so  I  worked  away 
from  home  all  the  time  then  and  saved  all  I  earned. 
I  had  never  been  very  far  away  from  home  and  al- 
ways worked  on  a  farm.  When  I  was  twenty-two,  I 
think,  I  went  to  Saginaw,  Mich.,  to  work  in  the 
lumber  woods,  as  wages  were  much  more  there. 

I  had  been  keeping  company  with  a  young  lady 
at  home  and  was  engaged  to  be  married.  I  went  back 
home  and  went  to  work  for  a  farmer  I  had  worked 
for  previous  to  going  to  Michigan.  I  had  saved  up 
a  little  money  by  this  time  and  got  married  the  next 
summer  and  went  to  keeping  house  a  little  time  after. 
5 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

My  wife  had  worked  in  a  cheese  factory  before 
we  were  married  and  learned  how  to  make  cheese, 
and  as  that  was  a  great  industry  there  and  paid 
pretty  well,  we  thought  we  would  try  to  get  a  fac- 
tory and  try  cheese-making.  We  had  no  money  to 
buy  a  factory,  but  that  winter  we  succeeded  in  rent- 
ing one  and  moved  there  in  the  spring.  The  cheese- 
making  was  carried  on  only  during  the  summer 
months,  about  six  or  seven  months.  We  did  not 
have  any  money  left  to  start  with,  but  got  credit 
for  what  we  needed  and  started  out  pretty  well. 
It  was  an  old  factory  we  rented  and  pretty  well 
run  down,  but  we  worked  up  a  pretty  good  trade 
and  had  some  good  friends  that  helped  us.  Com- 
petition was  keen,  and  a  person  had  to  under- 
stand the  business  perfectly  to  make  a  success.  My 
wife  understood  it  thoroughly,  as  she  had  learned 
with  a  man  that  was  very  successful,  but  I  knew 
practically  nothing  about  it.  We  did  our  own  work 
at  first  and  got  along  well,  but  I  soon  discovered 
there  were  many  little  tricks  in  the  buying  and 
many  ways  for  the  buyer  to  job  the  maker. 

I  will  explain  briefly  how  the  cheese  was  mostly 
sold  at  that  time.  There  would  be  a  salesman  for 
every  factory,  and  they  would  meet  at  the  most  cen- 
tral city  and  had  a  regular  cheese  board  of  trade. 
The  board  met  every  week  during  the  early  sum- 
6 


MY    EARLY    LIFE    IN    ONTARIO 

mer,  and  after  they  had  bought  the  cheese  they 
would  send  out  their  inspectors  to  the  factories  they 
bought  from.  This  would  sometimes  be  several  days 
after  they  had  been  sold,  and  often  the  market  fluc- 
tuated a  good  deal,  and  if  it  happened  to  fall  during 
the  time  the  inspector  was  inspecting  the  cheese, 
he  often  culled  them  and  would  leave  some  of  them 
on  your  hands  or  would  take  them  at  a  reduced 
price.  A  maker  did  not  like  to  have  it  get  out  that 
his  cheese  had  been  culled.  That  would  give  him  a 
bad  reputation  and  hurt  his  trade.  I  did  not  know 
what  to  do  at  first  when  an  inspector  culled  some  of 
our  cheese,  but  he  told  me  if  I  would  weigh  the 
cheese  and  knock  off  a  pound  or  so  on  a  cheese  and 
make  out  two  invoices,  give  our  treasurer  the  short 
one  and  send  him  the  correct  one  and  also  a  copy 
of  the  short  one,  that  he  would  accept  them  and  no 
one  would  be  any  the  wiser.  I  at  first  thought  there 
was  no  harm  in  this,  but  I  kept  it  to  myself;  I  do 
not  think  I  even  told  my  wife. 

It  takes  lots  of  patience  to  make  cheese,  and  espe- 
cially if  a  person  is  not  particular  in  taking  the 
milk.  The  patrons  will  not  all  take  good  care  of 
their  milk,  and  it  often  comes  to  the  factory  tainted 
with  some  bad  smell,  either  from  the  cows  eating 
something  or  drinking  bad  water,  and  it  often  comes 
from  the  milk  being  kept  in  some  filthy  place,  and  it 
7 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

takes  a  lot  of  work  and  time  to  get  this  out  of  the 
curd,  often  all  day  and  part  of  the  night;  whereas, 
if  you  had  all  good,  pure  milk  you  could  get  through 
in  eight  or  nine  hours ;  and  I  think  after  I  had  worked 
at  the  cheese-making  a  while  I  was  not  as  particu- 
lar as  my  wife  and  often  hurried  it  up  to  get  done 
early.  While  we  were  bound  to  make  a  first-class 
cheese,  we  also  had  patrons  bound  to  furnish  first- 
class  milk,  but  we  did  not  have  them  bound  to  send 
any  at  all  if  they  did  not  see  fit,  and  as  I  have  stated, 
competition  was  very  keen,  and  a  good  many  of  the 
patrons  were  so  situated  that  they  could  send  their 
milk  to  different  factories,  and  if  we  would  send  it 
home  and  tell  them  it  was  not  good,  they  would  often 
do  it,  and  we  had  to  take  a  chance  on  lots  of  milk 
that  we  ought  not,  especially  in  hot  weather. 

This  throwing  in  a  few  pounds  of  cheese  to  the 
buyer  by  making  the  short  invoices  would  seem  all 
right,  but  if  you  did  much  of  this  you  would  run  the 
average  away  up,  and  it  would  take  too  much  milk 
to  make  a  pound  of  cheese.  As  it  takes  about  ten 
pounds  of  milk  to  make  a  pound  of  cheese,  we  had 
to  keep  pretty  close  to  this  to  compete  with  other 
factories,  and  thus  the  only  way  to  do  this  was  to 
weigh  the  milk  short.  Still  another  difficulty  con- 
fronted us,  as  a  great  many  patrons  weighed  their 
milk  at  home,  and  if  there  was  too  much  difference 
8 


MY    EARLY    LIFE    IN    ONTARIO 

they  would  kick,  and  so  the  man  that  did  not  weigh 
his  milk  at  home  suffered  the  most.  We  could  usu- 
ally find  this  out  through  the  man  that  hauled  the 
milk.  Our  salesman  and  treasurer  was  on  to  all  this, 
as  he  had  been  in  the  business  a  good  while,  and  he 
said  it  was  all  right,  and  a  maker  hadn't  ought  to 
make  up  any  deficiency  at  the  price  he  got  for  mak- 
ing, and  that  they  did  not  pay  enough  anyway. 
This  man  was  a  good  friend  of  mine  and  helped  me 
in  many  ways. 

They  used  to  most  always  contract  the  last  two 
or  three  months'  make  about  the  middle  of  the  sea- 
son, and  often  the  market  would  fall,  and  this  worked 
a  great  hardship  on  the  maker,  as  the  buyers  were 
more  particular.  The  first  year  we  made  cheese  they 
contracted  the  last  three  months'  make,  and  the  mar- 
ket fell  afterward,  and  they  left  several  hundred 
dollars'  worth  of  cheese  on  our  hands,  and  I  sold 
them  to  the  man  I  rented  the  factory  from.  He 
failed  to  pay  all  for  them,  and  I  had  to  borrow  about 
$400  to  make  up  this,  and  I  never  got  it  from  him, 
as  he  had  sold  the  factory  and  was  not  worth  it. 
I  never  did  get  it.  We  bought  the  factory  after  that 
and  stayed  there  four  years. 

I  just  want  to  relate  these  circumstances  to  show 
the  reader  where  I  first  fell  and  began  to  be  dishon- 
est. This  was  the  first  business  I  had  done  for  myself, 
9 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

and  I  was  handling  quite  a  lot  of  money,  and  it  was 
quite  a  change  from  working  for  somebody  on  a 
farm  sixteen  or  seventeen  hours  a  day  for  $12  to 
$15  a  month.  As  long  as  I  stayed  home  with  my 
wife  and  worked  in  the  factory,  I  was  all  right, 
but  I  thought  I  would  keep  a  team  of  horses  and 
haul  a  milk  route  and  haul  away  the  cheese  to 
the  depot,  and  hire  a  man  or  girl  to  work  in  the 
factory  to  help  my  wife  when  I  was  not  there.  Then 
I  got  to  buying  the  whey  at  the  factory  and  keep- 
ing hogs  there  and  feeding  them,  and  all  this  took 
me  away  from  home  more  and  more  all  the  time,  and 
took  me  to  the  city  a  good  deal,  where  I  met  a  dif- 
ferent class  of  people  from  those  I  had  been  used 
to.  I  got  to  drinking  some  and  spending  a  good  deal 
of  money  and  staying  away  from  home  longer  than 
my  business  required,  and  I  got  mixed  up  in  politics 
some,  and  to  make  a  long  story  short,  I  got  to  liv- 
ing beyond  my  means  and  going  in  company  that 
I  was  not  able  to  keep  up  my  end  with.  The  patrons 
of  our  factory  noticed  this  and  talked  a  good  deal 
about  it,  and  I  kept  living  a  little  faster  all  the  time. 
My  credit  was  good,  and  if  I  wanted  money  I  could 
go  to  the  bank  and  borrow  it. 

My  wife  did  not  like  my  being  away  from  home 
so  much,  but  she  made   no   serious   objection,   but 
looked  after  things  the  best  she  could  when  I  was 
10 


MY    EARLY   LIFE    IN    ONTARIO 

not  there.  For  that  part,  she  would  do  it  better  than 
I,  because  she  understood  it  better  and  was  more 
particular,  and  if  I  had  attended  to  my  business  and 
done  my  work  and  saved  the  money,  we  would  have 
been  all  right  and  could  have  saved  some  money.  But 
I  could  not  stand  prosperity,  and  kept  good  horses 
and  rigs,  and  lived  a  pretty  fast  life  and  did  not  deal 
very  honestly  with  the  patrons. 

Where  I  made  the  greatest  mistake  of  my  life  was 
in  not  telling  my  wife  anything  about  my  business 
transactions,  or  very  little,  and  I  think  this  was  the 
cause  of  our  first  estrangement.  I  did  not  keep  this 
from  my  dear  wife  because  I  did  not  love  her,  but  I 
knew  if  she  knew  about  how  I  was  doing  the  business 
she  would  not  stand  for  it,  and  would  wonder  what 
I  was  doing  with  the  money.  If  she  asked  me  about 
something  I  did  not  want  to  tell  her,  I  would  either 
tell  her  a  falsehood  or  put  her  off  some  other  way, 
and  I  think  the  truth  began  to  dawn  upon  her,  and 
she  got  so  she  did  not  ask  me  anything  much  about 
business  matters  at  all.  I  thought  at  the  time  I  was 
only  saving  her  pain.  I  knew  I  was  doing  wrong, 
but  still  kept  doing  more  to  cover  up  what  I  had 
done,  and  so  it  was  I  kept  on.  I  did  not  drink  to 
excess,  nor  did  I  seem  to  spend  any  great  amount  of 
money.  We  made  pretty  good  money  through  the 
summer,  but  nothing  in  the  winter,  and  as  I  kept 
11 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 
two  or  three  horses  all  the  time  and  had  to  buy 
everything,  the  money  got  away,  and  after  working 
there  four  years  and  selling  the  factory  for  about 
$400  more  than  we  gave  for  it,  I  think  I  was  some 
in  debt  yet,  although  most  folks  thought  we  had 
some  money. 

The  way  we  came  to  sell  the  factory  was  like  this : 
The  patrons  began  to  get  dissatisfied,  and  the  treas- 
urer and  salesman  advised  me  to  sell,  and  found  a 
buyer  for  me,  and  no  doubt  it  was  a  good  thing 
for  me. 

We  moved  from  Cramahe  the  spring  of  1892,  and 
went  to  make  cheese  for  a  company  at  Wooler  near 
my  home.  There  was  not  as  much  money  in  this  as 
we  had  been  making.  We  had  more  work  to  do  in  the 
factory,  as  there  was  more  milk  to  handle.  I  was  at 
home  more  here,  and  as  we  were  among  my  own  folks 
I  tried  to  lead  a  better  life.  We  had  an  uncle  who 
was  a  preacher,  and  we  were  close  to  his  church  and 
usually  went  to  church.  I  had  many  good  Christian 
friends  there  that  gave  me  good  advice  and  tried 
to  get  me  to  lead  a  better  life,  and  I  did  try,  but 
to  no  purpose.  I  only  tried  to  keep  my  wicked  life 
away  from  my  Christian  friends,  and  I  would  make 
some  excuse  to  get  away  from  home  as  often  as  pos- 
sible to  the  city  or  away  hunting  and  fishing,  any 
place  to  get  away  from  home  and  have  a  little  time, 
12 


MY    EARLY    LIFE    IN    ONTARIO 

as  we  called  it.  We  stayed  there  three  years,  but  the 
people  did  not  like  the  way  I  lived,  as  most  all  the 
patrons  were  Christians,  and  my  actions  would  get 
out. 

I  had  some  good  friends  that  managed  to  keep  the 
factory  for  me  three  years,  but  at  the  end  of  that 
time  I  lost  it,  and  a  friend  of  mine  put  up  the  money 
to  buy  a  factory  at  Hilton,  and  I  was  to  manage 
it  and  pay  him  back.  That  winter  I  started  to  build 
another  factory  a  few  miles  from  the  one  we  bought, 
and  this  kept  me  away  from  home  a  good  deal  that 
winter.  I  stopped  in  a  town  called  Brighton  near 
where  I  was  building  the  new  factory.  This  was  the 
beginning  of  my  downfall.  I  boarded  there  with  a 
man  and  became  infatuated  with  his  wife  and  she 
with  me. 

I  finished  this  factory  and  moved  there  about  the 
opening  of  the  cheese-making  season.  There  was  a 
dear  little  girl  born  to  us  this  spring,  and  thus  my 
dear  wife  was  no  longer  able  to  look  after  the  cheese- 
making  as  she  had  formerly  done,  and  I  had  to  de- 
pend altogether  on  hired  help.  I  rented  a  nice  house 
in  town  shortly  after  our  dear  little  girl  was  born, 
and  lived  there.  I  was  away  from  home  most  all  the 
time  now,  and  when  I  was  not  at  the  factory  I  was 
down-town.  Our  once  happy  home  had  lost  all  at- 
tractions for  me  now,  and  my  dear  wife  would  often 
13 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

complain  and  plead  with  me  to  stay  at  home,  or  at 
least  to  come  home  early.  To  make  a  long  story 
short,  I  lived  away  beyond  my  means  and  was  some 
in  debt,  and  my  credit  was  not  so  good,  and  as  I  neg- 
lected to  look  after  the  making  of  the  cheese  and 
depended  all  on  hired  help,  they  did  not  turn  out 
any  too  good,  and  my  chief  prop  was  not  able  to 
look  after  this  as  she  had  formerly  done. 

But  I  managed  all  right  until  we  had  to  settle 
up  in  the  fall  of  1896,  and  this  woman  and  I  had 
planned  to  run  away  together,  and  I  had  to  have 
money  to  do  this.  I  was  all  right  at  Hilton ;  but  at 
Brighton  I  had  overdrawn  my  account  several  hun- 
dred dollars  and  was  still  in  debt,  and  to  cover  up 
some  other  misrepresentations  on  the  books,  I 
burned  the  factory  I  had  built  and  got  the  insur- 
ance. I  had  taken  from  $500  to  $600  worth  of 
cheese  from  the  storehouse  at  Brighton  and  sold 
it  and  kept  the  money.  The  factory  was  insured 
in  my  name  and  the  cheese  in  the  name  of  the 
company.  In  the  fire  everything  was  destroyed, 
and  the  account  books  of  the  company  were  de- 
stroyed, with  the  record  of  my  debt  in  them.  I  paid 
up  my  debts  with  the  insurance  money,  and  had 
about  $400  left,  and  I  left  there  a  month  or  so 
afterward,  and  this  woman  followed  me  a  short 
time  later  and  met  me  in  Detroit,  Mich.,  and  we 
14 


MY    EARLY   LIFE    IN    ONTARIO 

went  to  Nelson,  British  Columbia.  We  stayed  there 
and  at  Pilot  Bay,  about  twenty  miles  away  from 
there,  for  three  months  or  so,  and  I  found  out  that 
she  had  written  home  and  her  folks  knew  where  she 
was,  and  I  bought  her  a  ticket,  and  she  went  home, 
and  I  left  there  and  went  to  Spokane,  Wash. 
I  did  not  hear  from  her  after  that,  only  in  an  in- 
direct way.  I  wrote  to  a  friend  of  mine  about  six 
months  afterward.  He  told  me  she  was  living  with 
her  husband  again  and  everything  was  all  fixed  up. 
He  also  told  me  my  wife  had  written  to  him  and 
wanted  to  know  if  he  knew  where  I  was.  He  said  she 
said  some  pretty  hard  things  and  said  he  thought 
it  would  not  be  best  for  me  to  come  back  there.  I 
had  no  notion  of  going  back,  and  did  not  let  him 
know  where  I  was. 

I  was  a  very  miserable  man  and  began  to  see  the 
great  mistake  I  had  made,  but  did  not  know  how  to 
repair  it.  I  thought  my  wife  would  never  forgive 
me,  and  I  made  up  my  mind  to  begin  life  over  again 
and  forget  the  past,  but  alas,  that  was  not  so  easy 
to  do,  but  I  thought  that  was  all  there  was  left  for 
me  to  do,  and  I  started  in  to  do  it. 


15 


CHAPTER    TWO 


WHEN  I  had  been  in  Spokane  a  few  weeks 
I  had  only  $50  left,   and  I  saw   that  I 
would  have  to   go  to  work.   One  day   I 
noticed   a   card  in   the   window   of   an    employment 
agency.  It  was  for  a  man  to  drive  a  milk  wagon  in 
the  Coeur  d'Alene  mining  country  for  a  firm  of  the 
name  of  Markwell  Brothers.  I  wrote  them  first  and 
then  went  over  there  the  next  week  and  got  the 
place.  This  was  in  April,  1897. 

The  Markwell  Brothers  had  a  milk  ranch  about 
two  miles  west  of  Wallace — the  principal  town  there 
— a  place  of  about  two  thousand  people.  Above  this 
the  valley  that  all  the  towns  were  located  in  split, 
and  one  branch  of  the  Coeur  d'Alene  River  went  up  to 
Mullan  on  the  right,  and  one  branch  on  the  left,  that 
they  called  Canon  Creek,  went  up  to  Gem  and  Burke. 
There  were  big  lead  and  silver  mines  at  all  these 
places  but  Wallace,  which  was  a  kind  of  market- 
place for  the  district ;  and  down  below  it  about  ten 
16 


UNION    RULE    IN    THE    CCEUR   D'ALENES 

miles  there  was  another  big  mining-camp  called 
Wardner.  Gem,  Burke,  and  Mullan  each  had  from 
seven  to  nine  hundred  people  living  in  them,  and 
there  were  probably  fifteen  hundred  in  Wardner. 
My  work  was  to  deliver  milk  at  Burke,  the  town  up 
at  the  end  of  Canon  Creek. 

The  country  seemed  to  me  at  first  a  kind  of 
gloomy  place  to  live  in,  especially  Canon  Creek  and 
Burke.  In  the  first  place  the  canon  was  very  narrow, 
and  the  mountains  on  both  sides  were  very  high  and 
steep.  They  went  up  at  an  angle  of  maybe  forty 
per  cent,  and  they  were  about  a  thousand  feet  high, 
so  that  the  days  in  there  were  very  short.  In  the 
summer-time  the  sun  would  go  down  at  about  four 
o'clock,  and  in  the  winter  there  wasn't  more  than 
five  hours  of  sunlight.  Of  course  you  would  see  the 
sun  on  the  sides  of  the  mountains  long  before  it 
came  up  and  after  it  went  down;  but  I  mean  real 
sunlight.  There  was  very  little  wind  there,  it  was 
so  deep  and  narrow;  and  in  the  winter-time,  when  it 
snowed,  you  would  notice  the  snow  came  straight 
down,  and  not  on  a  slant  as  it  naturally  does  in  other 
places. 

The  first  impression  you  got  of  Burke  was  that 

it  never  stopped.  It  was  going  day  and  night  and 

Sunday.  The  mines  worked  all  the  time,  and  it  was 

the  same  with  the  saloons  and  such  places.   They 

17 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

used  to  say  that  the  only  way  you  could  tell  it  was 
Sunday  in  Burke  was  that  you  had  a  chicken  dinner 
then. 

The  canon  was  only  about  one  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  wide  at  the  bottom,  so  it  was  hard  work  to 
squeeze  in  the  town.  There  was  only  one  street,  and 
the  two  railroad  companies'  tracks  ran  up  through 
the  middle  of  that  to  the  Tiger-Poorman  mill.  The 
stores  sat  on  the  south  side,  and  had  to  be  built  out 
over  the  creek,  which  they  had  to  run  through  a 
flume.  On  the  north  side  they  had  to  cut  away  the 
hills  to  set  the  buildings  in.  There  were  maybe  a 
dozen  stores,  barber  shops,  etc.,  but  more  saloons 
than  anything  else.  There  were  six  of  these,  and 
they  had  all  kinds  of  gambling  lay-outs  in  the  back 
rooms — such  as  roulette,  faro,  and  black-jack  and 
stud  poker.  Beyond  the  stores  there  came  the  mill, 
and  then  the  sporting-houses.  There  were  about  ten 
of  these,  with  a  dance  hall  in  the  center,  and  then 
came  the  residence  section,  without  any  break.  The 
school-house  was  only  about  a  hundred  feet  away 
from  the  red-light  district,  so  that  the  children 
could  hear  the  women  singing  and  cursing  down 
there.  There  wasn't  any  church  in  the  town,  nor 
any  library  or  theater. 

As  I  had  been  brought  up  and  lived  all  my  life 
in  a  farming  country  this  place  struck  me  at  first 
18 


UNION    RULE   IN    THE    CCEUR   D'ALENES 

as  pretty  peculiar.  But  of  course  when  you  get  to 
living  in  a  place  you  get  used  to  it. 

Almost  the  first  thing  that  Fred  Markwell  asked 
me  when  I  applied  for  the  job  with  him  was  if  I  had 
ever  had  any  trouble  with  labor-unions.  I  told  him 
no,  and  I  didn't  know  anything  about  unions  at  that 
time.  Then  he  warned  me  whatever  I  might  see  or 
hear  about  their  going  not  to  criticize  them.  He 
said  they  had  driven  his  father  out  of  business  be- 
cause he  talked  against  them. 

I  soon  found  out  that  nobody  could  live  in  the 
district,  and  especially  Canon  Creek,  and  do  any- 
thing or  say  anything  against  the  unions.  There 
were  two  unions  there.  The  men  who  worked  above 
ground  in  the  mines  belonged  to  the  Knights  of 
Labor,  and  all  the  miners  belonged  to  the  Western 
Federation  of  Miners.  This  last  union  they  said 
really  started  from  this  section,  and  this  was  the 
one  that  ran  the  district.  They  had  all  the  mining 
towns  but  Wardner  under  their  control,  and  if  any 
man  opposed  them  they  "  ran  him  down  the  canon." 

The  way  they  did  this  would  seem  peculiar  to 
a  stranger  who  was  not  acquainted  with  the  country. 
There  was  a  miners'  union  in  every  town,  and  each 
union  had  a  gang  of  men  who  ran  the  non-union 
men  out  of  the  district.  Every  miner  who  would  not 
join  the  union  was  warned  to  get  out,  and  if  he 
19 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

didn't,  he  was  "  run  down  the  canon  " ;  that  is,  this 
gang  of  men,  with  masks  and  Winchesters,  would 
go  up  to  his  room  some  night  and  take  him  down 
on  the  railroad  track  and  march  him  out  of  the 
canon.  When  they  got  him  out,  they  warned  him 
if  he  came  back  again  they  would  kill  him.  They 
generally  marched  them  out  in  front  of  them  with 
guns.  Sometimes  it  was  claimed  they  put  a  halter 
on  their  necks  and  led  them  out.  Several  men  who 
wouldn't  leave  were  killed. 

The  unions  were  so  strong  that  they  weren't  sat- 
isfied with  only  driving  out  the  "  scabs,"  but  they  did 
the  same  thing  with  bosses  or  superintendents  they 
did  not  like.  For  instance,  there  was  the  case  of  Mr. 
Whitney,  who  was  foreman  of  the  Frisco  mill.  They 
sent  a  letter  to  him  and  told  him  to  leave  the  camp 
or  he  would  suffer  the  consequences;  but  he  did 
not  leave.  Awhile  after  this  a  gang  of  masked  men 
with  Winchesters  went  to  Mr.  Whitney's  room  in 
Gem  one  night  a  little  before  midnight  and  started 
to  drive  him  down  the  canon. 

I  talked  with  a  woman  who  saw  them  taking  him 
out.  They  came  marching  down  the  street  at  Gem 
under  the  bright  electric  lights,  and  when  people 
began  sticking  their  heads  out  of  the  windows,  she 
said  these  men  with  guns  told  them  to  go  back  in 
again  or  they  would  shoot  them.  They  took  Whit- 
20 


UNION    RULE    IN    THE    CCEUR    D'ALENES 

ney  down  the  railroad,  and  as  he  was  a  young  man 
and  rather  spirited,  he  tried  to  get  away  from  them 
down  a  little  way  below  Gem.  There  were  some  box- 
cars down  there,  and  he  thought  if  he  could  run 
back  of  these  in  the  dark  he  could  escape.  But  they 
shot  him  in  the  hip  and  left  him  there,  and  somebody 
else  got  him  and  took  him  down  to  the  hospital  at 
Wallace,  and  he  died  there  a  few  days  afterward  when 
they  were  operating  on  him.  Mr.  Whitney's  rela- 
tives were  wealthy  people,  and  they  and  the  State 
offered  $17,000  reward  for  the  men  who  shot  him; 
but  nothing  ever  came  of  it,  and  nobody  was  ever 
arrested,  though  a  great  many  people  must  have 
known  who  did  it.  Nobody  in  Canon  Creek  ever 
dared  to  testify  about  a  thing  like  this.  They  knew 
if  they  did  they  would  be  killed  themselves. 

It  might  seem  a  strange  thing  about  that  coun- 
try that  nobody  was  ever  punished  for  assaults  or 
murder  like  this.  But  after  you  were  acquainted 
there  it  was  easy  to  see  why  this  was.  The  fact  was 
that  all  the  peace  officers — the  sheriff  and  constables 
and  deputies  of  the  peace — were  elected  by  the 
unions  and  were  in  with  them.  The  miners  made  up 
their  minds  whom  they  were  going  to  nominate  and 
vote  for,  and  when  they  did  this,  they  voted  almost 
solid  for  their  men.  The  peace  officers,  of  course, 
always  sided  with  the  unions.  And  whenever  a  non- 
21 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

union  man  got  into  the  camp  and  got  beaten  up 
and  they  took  him  before  the  justices  of  the  peace, 
they  would  fine  him  or  send  him  to  jail.  George  A. 
Pettibone  was  justice  of  the  peace  at  Gem  back  in 
1892,  and  used  to  tell  how  he  did  this. 

In  fact,  it  was  difficult  to  convict  anybody  who 
had  friends  in  the  canon  of  anything,  even  murder. 
It  was  strange  how  little  account  they  took  of  mur- 
der in  that  country.  I  think  for  one  thing  the  peo- 
ple got  used  to  seeing  men  killed  in  the  mines.  They 
would  get  blown  up  in  blasting,  so  that  they  had 
to  be  gathered  up  in  a  sack  or  basket,  or  sometimes 
they  would  get  badly  hurt.  The  men  who  were  killed 
would  be  taken  down  to  Wallace  and  buried,  and 
the  men  who  were  hurt  would  be  put  onto  a  push- 
car  on  the  railroad  and  slid  down  to  the  Wallace 
hospital.  When  they  saw  them  being  carried  out, 
the  miners  would  say,  "  It  was  too  bad,"  and  then 
everything  would  go  on  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened. All  this  seemed  to  make  human  life  cheap, 
and,  of  course,  almost  everybody  had  a  six-shooter, 
although  they  didn't  always  carry  them,  and  there 
was  more  or  less  shooting.  I  remember  there  were 
two  murders  besides  Whitney  that  I  knew  of  while 
I  was  there.  One  man  was  acquitted,  and  the  other 
one  was  given  a  year  in  jail. 

I  worked  steadily  on  my  milk  route  and  saved 


UNION    RULE    IN    THE    CGEUR    D'ALENES 

some  money  during  1897,  and  that  fall  I  bought  a 
sixteenth  interest  in  the  Hercules  mine  near  Burke 
— the  mine  that  has  made  Ed  Boyce,  the  former 
president  of  the  Western  Federation  of  Miners,  and 
his  wife  so  wealthy.  They  are  said  to  be  worth  nearly 
$1,000,000  now,  and  my  share,  if  I  had  kept  it, 
would  be  worth  over  $500,000.  It  was  only  a  pros- 
pect then,  and  I  paid  $500  for  my  share,  a  part 
down  and  the  rest  with  a  note,  which  I  was  to  pay 
off  in  instalments. 

I  became  tired  of  my  milk  route,  and  I  gave  it  up 
on  Christmas,  1897.  Then  I  went  to  Burke  and 
bought  a  wood  and  coal  business  there.  I  had 
to  borrow  $150  to  do  this.  The  business  was  a 
good  one,  and  I  would  have  made  a  big  living 
out  of  it,  if  I  had  attended  to  it,  but  I  soon 
got  into  bad  habits.  There  didn't  seem  to  be  much 
else  to  do  for  amusement.  A  single  man  board- 
ing in  that  country  would  have  a  small  room,  gen- 
erally without  a  stove,  which  was  very  cold  in  the 
winter,  and  very  close  and  hot  in  the  summer.  So 
everybody  went  into  the  saloons,  where  it  was  com- 
fortable. I  have  often  thought  that  these  million- 
aires who  were  giving  libraries  and  such  things 
might  do  a  good  thing  if  they  would  give  a  little 
to  the  mining-camps  just  to  give  the  men  some  place 
to  go  to.  It  was  the  same  with  me  as  with  hundreds 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

of  others.  I  got  started  going  into  saloons,  and 
finally  I  got  to  gambling. 

I  lost  so  much  money  at  this  that  it  kept  me  con- 
tinually broke,  and  in  the  spring  of  1898  I  had  to 
sell  my  interest  in  the  Hercules  mine  in  order  to 
pay  my  debts.  Dan  Cordonia  bought  it  of  me  for 
about  $700. 

In  the  summer  of  1898  I  had  to  take  in  a  partner. 
This  was  a  Scotchman  named  James  McAlpin.  We 
were  in  partnership  until  about  March,  1899.  I 
stopped  gambling  and  tried  to  straighten  up.  But 
I  used  up  so  much  money  paying  off  my  old  debts 
that  when  we  made  a  settlement  I  found  I  had  over- 
drawn my  account  several  hundred  dollars,  and 
finally  I  offered  to  sell  my  share  of  the  business  to 
McAlpin  for  $100  in  cash.  He  accepted  this  offer, 
and  in  this  way  I  went  out  of  business  for  myself. 

The  last  of  March,  1899,  I  got  a  job  through 
Lewis  Strow,  a  shift  boss  I  knew  well,  as  a 
"  mucker  " — that  is,  a  shoveler — in  the  Tiger-Poor- 
man  mine  at  Burke.  I  had  to  join  the  miners'  union 
right  away,  and  then  for  the  first  time  I  became 
acquainted  with  the  workings  of  this  union. 

When  I  first  came  to  the  Creur  d'Alenes  I  thought 
— as  everybody  outside  seems  to  think  about  the  Fed- 
eration of  Miners — that  the  whole  union  was  respon- 
sible for  the  outrages  that  were  committed  there. 


UNION    RULE    IN    THE    CCEUR   D'ALENES 

But  that  is  a  mistake,  as  a  great  part  of  the  men 
knew  no  more  about  it  than  I  did,  and  I  did  not 
know  anything  then.  This  is  the  case  everywhere, 
as  I  have  found  since.  The  miners  get  the  credit 
for  all  the  leaders  do.  I  can  count  the  men  who  were 
really  responsible  for  the  troubles  at  Burke  on  the 
fingers  of  my  hands,  and  the  membership  of  that 
union  must  have  been  over  four  hundred. 

It  was  common  talk  almost  from  the  first  in  the 
Coeur  d'Alenes  that  there  was  an  "  inner  circle " 
which  ran  the  district.  There  were  unions  at  Gem, 
Burke,  Mullan,  and  Wardner.  All  these  sent  dele- 
gates to  a  central  union — that  is,  a  board  that  was 
supposed  to  govern  the  whole  district.  But  the 
"  inner  circle  "  was  supposed  to  be  a  few  men  that 
were  really  back  of  the  central  union,  and  planned 
all  the  rough  work,  as  they  did  later  in  the  Federa- 
tion. George  Pettibone  was  one  of  these  when  he  was 
there  in  1892,  and  later  Ed  Boyce  and  L.  J.  Simp- 
kins  and  Marion  W.  Moor,  who  later  were  in  the 
"  inner  circle  "  of  the  Federation.  I  have  no  doubt 
they  got  this  idea  for  the  Federation  from  the  Coeur 
d'Alenes,  for  the  Federation  started  just  after  the 
first  fight  there,  and  a  good  many  of  the  men  in 
the  Federation  "  inner  circle  "  came  from  there. 

Ed  Boyce,  who  was  president  of  the  Federation 
for  a  long  while  in  its  early  years,  had  more  to  do 
25 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

with  getting  it  started  than  any  other  man.  He  be- 
gan the  "  Boyce  policy  "  soon  after  he  was  elected ; 
that  is,  he  advised  that  every  union  man  should  arm 
himself  with  a  rifle,  because  they  all  might  have  to 
go  out  and  fight  the  capitalists  before  long;  and 
that  nobody  in  the  union  should  join  the  militia. 
The  leaders  of  the  different  unions  took  this  up, 
and  I  have  heard  it  advised  in  unions  time  and  time 
again  by  the  officers  that  every  union  man  should 
buy  a  good  rifle  and  plenty  of  ammunition,  for  the 
time  was  coming  when  they  would  need  it.  And  no- 
body would  join  the  militia.  It  was  considered  a 
"  scab  "  organization  run  by  the  mine  owners. 

When  the  leaders  would  give  this  radical  talk, 
there  would  always  be  a  number  who  would  get  up 
and  applaud  very  loud.  A  great  many  of  these  radi- 
cal fellows  were  what  we  called  "  ten-day  men  " — 
that  is,  the  men  who  only  worked  part  time  and  lay 
around  the  saloons  the  rest.  A  good  many  of  these 
men  were  regular  saloon  "bums."  The  conservative 
men,  who  worked  hard  and  had  homes,  did  not  like 
this  policy.  I  have  often  heard  them  talk  against  it 
privately.  But  these  men  did  not  attend  the  meetings 
the  way  the  radical  ones  did,  and  generally  they 
could  not  express  their  thoughts  very  well  in  public ; 
and  if  they  started  to  talk  against  such  an  idea, 
they  would  hardly  get  on  their  feet  before  the  radi- 
26 


UNION    RULE   IN    THE    CCEUR   D'ALENES 

cal  element  would  begin  to  holler  "  Sit  down,"  or 
"  Put  him  out,"  and  they  would  get  rattled  and  stop 
talking.  Then  nobody  else  would  dare  get  up  and 
support  them  after  seeing  what  happened. 

But  it  is  true  that  after  a  while  even  the  conserva- 
tive ones  got  to  thinking  that  what  the  leaders  said 
was  probably  all  right.  In  a  town  like  Burke  you 
heard  nothing  else  and  had  no  chance  to.  You 
couldn't  even  read  anything  else.  I  remember  the 
unions  boycotted  the  Spokane  Spokesman,  and  they 
passed  a  rule  so  that  you  had  to  pay  $5  fine  to 
the  union  if  you  were  caught  reading  it.  We  were 
all  anxious  to,  too,  especially  when  the  Spanish 
War  was  on,  as  this  was  the  only  daily  newspaper 
which  came  into  the  district  the  same  day  it  was 
printed.  Now  anybody  gets  to  feeling  the  same  way 
when  he  hears  nothing  about  the  labor  question  ex- 
cept from  people  wh.o  talk  about  the  millionaire  mine 
owners,  and  how  pretty  soon  we  will  all  get  to  be 
like  the  cheap  laborers  of  Europe,  and  peons,  and 
how  we  must  defend  the  unions  by  arms  if  necessary, 
because  that  is  the  only  defense  we  have.  It  was 
just  one  thing  they  talked,  and  that  was  war. 

When  you  look  back  at  it  all,  the  trouble  did  start 

in  a  kind  of  war— that  is,  the  fight  of  July  11,  1892, 

when  the  miners  blew  up  the  Gem  mill  and  drove 

out  the  "  scabs,"  and  hired  deputies,  and  the  United 

27 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

States  troops  came  in  and  put  the  miners  in  the 
"  bull  pen."  They  always  celebrated  the  anniver- 
sary of  the  day  every  year  at  the  union  cemetery 
at  Wallace,  around  the  graves  of  the  miners  who 
were  killed  then.  This  celebration  really  took  the 
place  of  the  Fourth  of  July  in  that  country.  The 
mines  would  all  close,  and  the  union  men  would  go 
down  on  special  trains  to  Wallace  and  march  out 
to  the  cemetery.  A  stranger  might  expect  some  sol- 
emn memorial  service;  but  if  they  did  they  would 
be  much  mistaken;  for  there  was  only  talk  of  the 
most  radical  kind  by  Boyce  or  speakers  like  him. 
They  would  start  by  reminding  the  miners  how 
cruelly  and  cowardly  their  brothers  had  been  mur- 
dered. Then  they  would  go  on  to  say  that  they,  too, 
did  not  know  how  soon  such  a  death  might  come  to 
them,  if  they  did  not  prepare  themselves  to  resist 
it;  and  the  only  way  to  prepare  was  to  get  a  good 
gun  and  plenty  of  ammunition  and  be  ready  to  fight, 
and  not  wait  until  the  other  fellow  shot  you  down 
as  they  had  your  brother. 

A  great  many  of  the  men  really  did  arm  them- 
selves— with  rifles  when  they  could.  I  think  there 
was  quite  a  number  of  guns  left  over  from  the  fight 
of  1892,  and  I  know  there  were  some  shipped  in. 
George  Pettibone  has  told  me  that  he  sent  in  rifles 
from  Denver  in  1899  for  the  union  men.  He  sent 
28 


UNION    RULE    IN    THE    CCEUR    D'ALENES 

a  hundred  of  them  in  piano  boxes,  and  ten  thousand 
rounds  of  ammunition,  and  addressed  it  to  Jim 
Young,  who  was  sheriff  at  that  time,  and  was  in  deep 
with  the  unions.  Then  in  1898,  the  guns  which  be- 
longed to  the  militia,  that  had  disbanded  at  Mul- 
lan,  were  stolen  one  night  by  masked  men.  The  union 
denied  having  done  this,  but  a  good  many  of  the 
guns  showed  up  in  the  hands  of  union  men  when 
we  made  our  raid  on  the  Bunker  Hill  and  Sullivan 
mill  in  Wardner,  on  April  29,  1899.  All  these  guns 
which  the  union  men  used  were  cached  in  places 
known  to  the  union  leaders,  so  that  when  the  time 
came  to  use  them  they  could  be  dug  up  and  given 
to  the  men. 


29 


CHAPTER   THREE 

WE   BLOW    UP    THE    BUNKER    HILL    MILL 

ON  the  morning  of  April  29,  1899,  I  got  up 
at  six  o'clock,  as  usual,  expecting  to  go 
to  work  in  the  mine.  As  I  was  going  to  the 
place  where  I  took  breakfast  I  was  told  that  there 
would  be  no  work  at  any  of  the  mines  that  day,  and 
that  there  was  going  to  be  a  meeting  at  the  Miners' 
Union  Hall  at  seven  o'clock,  and  that  every  one  must 
attend.  The  first  notice  that  anybody  had  of  the 
meeting  was  that  morning.  I  think  the  central  union 
did  not  dare  to  give  it  out  before,  because  if  they 
had,  a  great  many  of  the  conservative  men  would 
have  left  town  before  they  took  part  in  what  they 
did  that  day. 

After  breakfast  I  went  over  to  the  hall,  and  it 
was  crowded,  and  in  a  few  minutes  Paul  Corcoran, 
the  secretary  of  the  Burke  union,  called  the  meet- 
ing to  order  and  began  to  explain  the  object  of 
holding  the  meeting  at  that  unusual  time.  He  told 
the  men  that  the  central  union  had  held  a  meeting 
the  night  before  at  Gem,  and  had  decided  that  the 
30 


WE   BLOW   UP   THE  BUNKER  HILL   MILL 

unions  should  go  to  Wardner  on  that  day  and  blow 
up  the  Bunker  Hill-Sullivan  mine,  and  I  think  he 
said  hang  the  superintendent.  I  am  not  sure  whether 
he  spoke  openly  of  the  latter,  but  I  know  that  it 
was  generally  discussed  in  the  crowd.  He  told  about 
the  trouble  the  miners'  union  had  always  had  with 
this  mine,  and  said  that  the  union  men  at  Wardner 
were  breaking  away  from  the  union  and  going  to 
work  there,  and  that  scabs  who  had  been  driven 
out  of  the  camp  from  time  to  time  were  coming 
back  there.  So  the  central  union  had  decided  the 
only  thing  to  do  was  to  go  down  and  blow  up  the 
mill  and  end  the  strike  once  and  for  all.  Then  he 
explained  to  us  about  the  plans  for  taking  posses- 
sion of  the  Northern  Pacific  train  and  going  down 
to  Wardner  that  morning. 

While  he  was  doing  this,  Mike  Devy,  the  presi- 
dent of  the  union,  came  in  very  angry  and  wanted 
to  know  why  he  had  not  been  notified  of  the  meet- 
ing, and  what  it  was  all  about.  When  Corcoran  had 
explained  it  to  him,  he  talked  strong  against  it. 
After  he  had  done  this  a  good  many  of  the  conserva- 
tive men  backed  him  up.  Corcoran  answered  that 
they  had  nothing  to  fear.  He  said  the  governor 
would  not  do  anything,  because  they  owned  him,  as 
the  district  had  voted  solid  for  him.  The  only  thing 
to  be  afraid  of  was  the  Federal  Government,  and  that 
31 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

the  only  thing  that  could  make  it  do  anything  was 
to  interfere  with  the  United  States  mail,  and  they 
had  plans  so  as  not  to  interfere  with  that. 

They  took  a  vote  after  a  while.  They  did  this  by 
dividing  the  men  on  either  side  of  the  hall  and  count- 
ing them,  and  it  was  very  close.  If  it  had  been  taken 
in  the  usual  way,  by  raising  hands,  I  don't  think 
it  would  have  been  carried.  A  great  many  of  the 
conservative  men  were  bitter  against  it,  and  said 
it  was  a  shame;  yet,  after  they  voted  to  go,  there 
was  not  anybody  who  wanted  to  stay  at  home. 
Everybody  went  right  out  of  the  hall  and  began  to 
get  ready.  We  were  all  supposed  to  get  a  piece  of 
white  cotton  and  tie  it  around  our  arm,  as  this  was 
the  mark  of  the  Burke  union,  and  each  one  was  also 
supposed  to  get  some  sort  of  a  mask. 

It  is  a  peculiar  thing  to  say,  but  when  they  were 
once  started  nobody  seemed  to  think  anything  seri- 
ous was  to  be  done.  It  was  more  like  going  on  an 
excursion.  I  do  not  even  remember  myself  which  way 
I  voted  in  the  hall.  When  the  Northern  Pacific  train 
left  Wallace  that  morning  at  eight  o'clock,  all  the 
telegraph  wires  had  been  cut,  and  when  it  left  Burke, 
five  or  six  masked  men  with  rifles  boarded  the  en- 
gine and  directed  the  trainmen  to  put  on  extra  cars. 
Paul  Corcoran  was  in  charge  of  the  men  who  did 
this.  The  train  was  made  up  of  box-cars  and  flat- 
32 


WE   BLOW   UP   THE  BUNKER   HILL    MILL 

cars,  one  or  two  passenger-cars  and  a  baggage-car. 
The  men  got  on  board  here,  and  we  started  down 
the  canon.  I  was  in  one  of  the  passenger-coaches. 
The  train  stopped  at  the  Frisco  Magazine,  a  mile 
from  Gem,  and  about  forty  or  fifty  boxes  of  dyna- 
mite, each  one  of  which  weighed  fifty  pounds,  were 
loaded  in  one  of  the  box-cars,  and  the  train  then 
went  down  to  Gem  and  stopped  in  front  of  the 
miners'  union  hall.  A  number  of  Burke  men  got  off 
the  train  and  went  into  the  hall,  where  some  new 
rifles  and  ammunition  were  distributed  to  them. 
Then  they  thought  we  would  not  have  enough  dy- 
namite, and  they  brought  the  train  up  again  to  the 
magazine,  and  put  on  forty  or  fifty  more  boxes. 
Then  we  ran  back  to  Gem  and  stopped  at  the  union 
hall  again,  and  the  men  from  Gem  got  on  the  train 
and  we  ran  down  to  Wallace.  The  union  men  from 
Mullan  had  walked  down  to  Wallace,  which  is  about 
ten  miles,  and  they  got  on  the  train  there.  We  lost 
some  time  at  Wallace,  and  then  switched  over  on  to 
the  Oregon  Railroad  &  Navigation  track  and  ran 
on  down  to  Wardner.  They  had  no  permission  to 
run  this  train  over  another  railroad's  track,  but 
the  men  in  the  engine  compelled  the  engineer  to  do 
this. 

The  train  was  crowded,  men  sitting  on  top  of  the 
box-cars  and  crowding  inside  of  them.  While  they 
33 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

were  going  down  from  Gem  a  good  many  of  the 
men  put  on  masks,  and  still  more  after  we  left  Wal- 
lace, but  a  great  many  of  them  did  not  mask  at  all. 
At  Wallace  Jim  Young,  the  sheriff,  and  Tom  Heney, 
former  sheriff  and  then  a  deputy  sheriff,  got  on  the 
train  at  Wallace,  and  though  I  did  not  hear  them, 
I  was  told  they  were  advising  the  men  on  the  way 
down  to  Wardner  how  best  to  do  the  work  and  not 
get  into  trouble  over  it.  The  sheriff  got  off  in  front 
of  the  crowd  at  Wardner  and  demanded  that  the 
mob  should  disperse  and  go  home.  Everybody  knew 
this  was  a  bluff,  and  that  he  really  would  make  no 
attempt  whatever  to  stop  them,  and  they  were 
laughing  and  joking  about  it. 

When  we  reached  the  Wardner  depot,  where  the 
Bunker  Hill  mill  was,  the  men  all  jumped  out  of 
the  train  and  got  ready  to  attack  the  mill.  W.  F. 
Davis,  who  was  a  leader  in  the  Gem  union,  had 
charge  of  them.  The  mill  was  about  a  half  mile  from 
the  depot,  and  we  got  ready  to  attack  it.  Everybody 
supposed  it  was  full  of  armed  guards  or  militia, 
and  Davis  and  the  other  leaders  planned  the  attack 
on  it.  In  fact  Paul  Corcoran  had  told  us  in  the 
meeting  that  morning  that  there  would  be  perhaps 
as  many  as  four  hundred  militia  at  the  mine,  but 
he  said  we  could  easily  whip  them.  The  way  they 
attacked  this  mill  was  foolish.  They  sent  twelve  men 
34 


WE   BLOW  UP   THE  BUNKER  HILL    MILL 

with  rifles  up  on  the  side  hill  to  the  south  of  the 
mill  to  fire  at  it  and  draw  the  fire  of  the  guards, 
if  there  were  any.  Then  they  formed  the  men  in 
line.  All  the  unions  were  marked  in  a  particular  way, 
a  piece  of  cotton  cloth  on  their  arms  or  in  their 
buttonholes,  etc.  Davis  and  the  other  men  started 
lining  them  up ;  the  men  with  Winchesters  went  first. 
They  called  out  each  union  in  turn  for  this ;  the 
Burke  union  first — "  All  men  from  Burke  with  long 
guns  this  way,"  and  so  on.  There  must  have  been 
about  four  hundred  men  with  long  guns.  Then  they 
lined  up  the  men  with  revolvers  after  them.  I  sup- 
pose there  were  twelve  hundred  men  in  the  crowd. 
Then  they  marched  them  right  straight  up  to  the 
mill,  two  by  two.  If  there  had  been  anybody  in  the 
mill  they  could  have  killed  half  a  dozen  at  a  time, 
shooting  down  through  the  line. 

I  didn't  get  into  the  line  myself,  as  I  waited  at 
the  depot  restaurant  to  get  something  to  eat.  I  had 
only  a  small  revolver  anyway  and  wouldn't  have  been 
any  particular  use.  Pretty  soon  I  heard  them  let 
loose  shooting,  and  some  of  the  fellows  that  were 
there  with  me  said,  "  They've  started  at  it,"  and  we 
all  ran  out.  It  seems  that  Davis  and  the  other  men 
had  sent  the  twelve  men  round  above  the  mill  with- 
out telling  all  of  the  crowd,  and  these  men  had  be- 
gun shooting  at  the  mill,  and  the  crowd,  thinking 
35 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

they  were  scabs,  began  shooting  at  them.  It  was  a 
queer  thing  to  see  the  crowd  break  up  and  run  and 
get  behind  cover  when  nobody  had  shot  at  them 
at  all.  The  twelve  men  stood  about  three  hundred 
yards  away  from  the  crowd,  and  about  half  the 
crowd  began  shooting  at  them.  I  could  see,  from 
where  I  stood  at  the  depot,  the  stones  and  dirt  fly- 
ing up  all  around  them;  but  although  there  were 
probably  two  hundred  people  firing  at  them,  they 
only  hit  one  man  named  Smith.  They  shot  him 
through  the  body,  and  he  died  right  off.  All  he  said 
was  "  I'm  hurt,"  and  fell  over  on  his  face,  and  the 
other  fellows  held  up  their  hands,  and  the  leaders 
told  the  crowd  who  they  were,  and  they  stopped 
firing. 

The  crowd  caught  a  young  Scotchman  named 
John  Cheyne,  who  was  a  watchman  at  the  mill,  and 
another  man,  and  they  told  them  that  there  was  no- 
body in  the  mill.  So  they  got  ready  and  began  to 
take  the  powder  up  and  put  it  in  under  the  mill  to 
blow  it  up.  About  eighty  or  ninety  of  us  who  were 
at  the  depot,  each  took  one  of  the  fifty-pound  boxes 
of  the  dynamite  and  carried  it  on  our  shoulders 
down  to  the  mill.  I  remember  even  then  I  didn't  un- 
derstand who  those  fellows  on  the  hill  were,  and  I 
said  to  Gus  Peterson,  who  was  carrying  a  box  of 
dynamite  beside  me,  "  What  do  they  let  those  scabs 
36 


WE   BLOW   UP   THE  BUNKER   HILL    MILL 

stay  there  for?  They  will  be  shooting  at  us  and  blow- 
ing up  this  dynamite  before  we  know  it."  Then  we 
left  the  dynamite  down  there  and  I  stayed  around 
near  the  mill. 

While  we  were  doing  this  the  crowd  that  had  cap- 
tured the  two  men  shot  Cheyne.  I  didn't  see  this,  but 
as  I  heard  it,  somebody  told  them  to  hike  and  get 
out  of  the  country,  and  they  started  to  run  away, 
and  then  somebody  else  began  to  holler,  "  Scab, 
scab !  "  and  a  lot  of  the  fellows  somewhere  else  hol- 
lered, "  Where,  where,  where?  "  and  began  shooting 
at  them.  One  of  these  men  shot  Cheyne  in  the  hip, 
and  grazed  the  lip  of  Rogers,  the  other  man.  Rogers 
ran  and  got  away,  and  a  woman  came  out  and  helped 
Cheyne  and  kept  the  men  from  killing  him,  but  he 
died  a  day  or  two  later  in  the  hospital. 

All  this  time  the  men  were  putting  the  powder 
into  the  mill,  with  Davis  in  charge.  There  was  about 
forty-five  hundred  pounds  of  this,  and  they  planned 
it  all  out,  where  would  be  the  best  place  to  put  it. 
There  was  a  charge  on  top,  underneath  the  ore  bin, 
where  the  ore  comes  into  the  mill,  then  there  was 
another  charge  down  under  the  tables  in  the  middle, 
and  then  at  the  bottom,  in  the  boiler  room,  there  was 
the  charge  like  what  they  call  a  lifter  in  a  mine. 
Then  when  they  got  these  all  set  they  fired  them 
with  fuses  so  that  the  top  would  go  first  and  the 
37 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

middle  next,  and  the  bottom  one  last,  so  this  would 
finish  the  job  from  the  ground  up. 

When  they  got  the  powder  in  the  mill,  they  wanted 
volunteers  to  set  off  the  fuses,  and,  though  I  was  only 
a  new  hand  in  the  mines,  I  was  near  by  at  the  time, 
and  I  said  I  would  set  off  one  of  them.  So  I  went 
down  in  the  boiler-room  with  another  man,  and  after 
a  while  Davis  came  and  put  his  head  down  through 
a  trap-door,  and  called  out  to  us  to  light  our  fuses, 
and  we  lighted  them,  and  ran  out  of  the  building. 
We  tried  to  go  up  a  stairway  first,  but  the  door  was 
locked,  so  we  had  to  hurry  and  get  out  of  a  window, 
and  run  across  a  switch  track,  where  some  freight- 
cars  were  standing.  Then  the  powder  exploded  and 
the  building  was  blown  all  to  pieces. 

They  also  set  fire  to  a  big  company  boarding- 
house  and  the  house  of  the  superintendent  and  some 
others  about  the  mill.  I  looked  into  the  superin- 
tendent's house  just  before  they  set  it  going,  and  it 
was  furnished  up  fine.  They  had  thrown  kerosene  all 
over  the  inside  and  had  set  it  off. 

The  men  began  to  shout  and  shoot  off  their  rifles 
after  the  mill  blew  up.  A  little  while  later  we  got  on 
the  train  and  started  back  to  Wallace.  I  sat  on  the 
outside  of  a  box-car.  The  men  were  all  feeling  pretty 
happy  and  still  kept  shooting  their  rifles.  There  was 
a  big  flume  up  the  hill  that  carried  the  water  to  the 
38 


WE  BLOW  UP  THE  BUNKER  HILL  MILL 
Bunker  Hill  concentrator,  and  they  would  shoot 
into  this  so  as  to  see  the  water  squirt  out  where  the 
balls  broke  through  into  the  wooden  flume. 

By  and  by  there  was  the  whistle  of  a  locomotive 
down  below,  and  the  leaders  stopped  our  train  and 
made  everybody  stop  firing.  They  said  there  might 
be  troops  on  that  train  coming  in  from  Spokane, 
and  anyway  they  would  very  likely  need  the  car- 
tridges if  there  was  going  to  be  any  fight.  This  was 
about  the  only  thing  I  heard  that  day  about  any- 
body coming  in  to  trouble  us.  As  I  said,  it  was  more 
like  going  on  an  excursion  than  anything  else,  and 
nobody  seemed  to  be  afraid  of  the  consequences.  We 
stopped  at  Wallace  on  the  way  back,  but  I  don't 
remember  much  about  that  except  that  some  of  the 
men  were  drunk,  though  I  think  they  had  closed  up 
the  saloons  before  we  got  there.  That  evening  I  went 
back  home  and  went  to  bed  as  usual  without  think- 
ing much  about  it. 

I  worked  in  the  mine  three  or  four  days  after  this. 
There  were  all  kinds  of  stories,  and  finally  we  knew 
the  Federal  troops  were  coming  in.  The  men  began 
to  get  out  of  town,  most  of  them  going  over  the 
trail  to  Thompson  Falls,  Mont. 

I  went  down  in  the  mine  to  work  the  morning  the 
troops  came,  but  I  saw  so  few  left  that  I  had  no 
heart  to  stay,  so  I  quit  and  got  my  time.  I  could 
39 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

not  get  my  pay  that  day,  so  I  went  up  on  the  hill 
on  the  north  side  of  the  town,  as  most  of  the  snow 
was  off  there,  and  it  was  warm.  There  were  a  good 
many  up  there  in  the  same  fix  I  was. 

About  three  or  four  o'clock  the  train  came  creep- 
ing up  the  canon  loaded  with  Federal  troops.  We 
had  made  arrangements  with  a  business  man  to  give 
us  a  signal  from  his  house,  if  it  was  safe  for  us  to 
come  down.  But  we  got  no  signal,  and  we  could  see 
for  ourselves  what  they  were  doing.  They  were 
rounding  up  men  like  a  bunch  of  cattle,  and  loading 
them  into  box-cars.  We  sent  two  men  down  after  it 
got  dark  to  find  out  what  we  could.  The  town  was 
all  picketed  with  soldiers,  but  they  managed  to  reach 
some  of  the  houses,  and  learned  from  the  women 
that  they  had  arrested  every  man  in  the  place,  busi- 
ness men  and  all,  even  to  the  postmaster. 

About  fifteen  or  twenty  of  us  slept  in  a  miner's 
cabin  that  night,  and  part  of  us  made  up  our  minds 
we  would  leave  the  next  morning  for  Thompson 
Falls.  In  the  morning  they  all  backed  out,  except 
Pat  Dennison  and  myself,  so  he  and  I  started  about 
five  o'clock.  It  was  forty  miles  over  there,  and  the 
snow  was  still  deep.  We  made  good  headway  for 
three  or  four  hours,  and  then  the  sun  had  thawed 
the  snow  so  that  we  would  sink  away  down  into  it. 
But  we  were  going  down  hill  then,  as  we  had  crossed 
40 


WE   BLOW   UP   THE  BUNKER  HILL   MILL 

the  summit,  and  after  we  got  down  a  ways  the 
snow  was  all  gone.  We  got  to  Thompson  Falls  about 
ten  o'clock  that  night.  We  left  the  next  morning 
on  the  three  o'clock  train  for  Missoula,  Mont. 
When  we  arrived  there,  we  found  others  there  we 
knew,  but  we  soon  had  to  scatter  from  there,  and  we 
found  out  we  had  left  Thompson  Falls  just  in  time, 
as  they  had  sent  soldiers  over  there  to  head  any  off 
that  came  across  the  range  from  the  Coeur  d'Alenes, 
and  they  did  arrest  some  there.  The  soldiers  that 
had  been  sent  to  Missoula  had  scab  deputies  with 
them  that  knew  nearly  everybody  from  that  coun- 
try, and  we  left  there  and  went  up  the  Bitter  Root 
Valley,  and  stopped  there  with  a  friend  of  some  of 
the  boys  that  were  with  us.  There  were  about  ten 
or  twelve  of  us.  We  stayed  there  a  few  days,  and 
one  of  the  boys  and  myself  went  on  up  the  valley 
about  ten  miles  farther,  as  I  knew  a  man  up  there 
who  drove  the  milk  wagon  for  Markwell  Brothers 
before  I  took  it  and  was  running  a  farm  there.  We 
got  him  to  go  over  to  the  Coeur  d'Alenes,  as  he  was 
acquainted  there,  and  get  our  trunks  and  collect 
what  money  we  had  coming,  and  we  worked  in  his 
place  while  he  was  gone.  He  told  us  how  things  were 
over  there;  that  they  had  several  hundred  in  the 
bull-pen,  and  were  still  looking  for  others. 

We  left  there  after  he  came  back,  and  returned 
41 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

where  we  left  the  other  boys,  and  later  came  to  Mis- 
soula,  where  we  stayed  a  few  days,  as  the  soldiers 
had  all  left,  and  from  there  we  went  to  Butte, 
Mont.  This  was  the  headquarters  of  the  Western  Fed- 
eration of  Miners,  and  we  found  hundreds  of  the 
miners  there  from  the  Coeur  d'Alenes.  I  was  taken 
sick  going  from  Missoula  to  Butte,  was  sick  sev- 
eral days  after  arriving  there,  and  did  not  feel  well 
all  the  time  I  was  there. 

I  went  up  to  the  Western  Federation  of  Miners 
headquarters  and  got  a  withdrawal  card,  so  I  could 
go  into  another  union  any  time.  The  president,  Ed 
Boyce,  told  us  he  wanted  us  all  to  come  back  to  the 
Coeur  d'Alenes  as  soon  as  the  soldiers  left,  by  all 
means.  He  said  the  trouble  would  soon  blow  over. 
I  stayed  in  Butte  about  a  month,  and  the  trouble 
in  the  Coeur  d'Alenes  looked  as  though  it  had  hardly 
started.  They  had  about  a  thousand  in  the  bull-pen, 
and  about  five  thousand  Federal  troops  scattered 
over  the  district,  and  had  patrols  day  and  night. 
The  bull-pen  was  at  Wardner,  and  they  took  them 
there  from  other  parts  of  the  district. 

They  were  starting  up  the  mines  again,  and  had 
inaugurated  a  card  system  and  an  employment  office, 
and  all  men  looking  for  work  at  the  mines  had  to  go 
to  this  employment  office  and  get  a  permit  before 
they  could  get  a  job  at  the  mines.  The  mine  owners 
42 


WE   BLOW   UP   THE  BUNKER  HILL   MILL 

of  the  Standard  and  Mammoth  mines  sent  two  rep- 
resentatives to  Butte  to  hire  600  men  and  offered 
to  pay  the  same  scale  of  wages  that  had  previ- 
ously been  paid  up  the  canon,  which  was  the  union 
scale.  They  also  wanted  the  Butte  union  to  get  them 
these  men,  and  they  would  pay  their  fares  over  there 
and  guarantee  them  all  work.  They  wanted  them  to 
all  have  union  cards  and  be  in  good  standing.  I  was 
in  the  union  hall  at  Butte  the  night  this  was  brought 
before  the  union,  and  they  would  not  have  anything 
to  do  with  it.  They  thought  perhaps  there  might 
be  some  trick  in  it  to  get  them  in  trouble  through 
the  permit  system  they  had  put  in  force  in  the  Coeur 
d'Alenes,  as  they  required  every  one  taking  out  one 
of  these  permits  to  renounce  all  allegiance  to  the 
Western  Federation  of  Miners,  and  make  an  affi- 
davit to  that  effect.  Some  wanted  them  to  do  that 
and  to  go,  but  others  did  not  like  it,  as  they  thought 
there  might  be  some  catch  in  it.  These  men  that 
came  to  hire  them  said  there  was  no  catch,  but  they 
would  rather  have  union  miners,  as  they  had  been 
instructed  to  come  to  Butte  first,  and  they  knew 
that  practically  all  the  miners  in  Butte  belonged  to 
the  union.  They  said  if  they  could  not  get  them 
there  they  were  instructed  to  go  to  Joplin,  Mo., 
which  was  a  non-union  camp.  As  the  Butte  union 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  proposition,  they 
43 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 
left  for  Joplin,  and  the  next  I  heard  from  there  they 
were  sending  men  from  there  by  the  car-load. 

I  left  Butte  and  went  to  Salt  Lake  City,  stayed 
there  a  few  days,  and  went  out  to  Bingham,  Utah, 
and  went  to  work  in  the  mines.  I  met  a  good  many 
men  that  I  knew  from  the  Coeur  d'Alenes,  most  of 
them  going  under  an  assumed  name,  for  if  it  became 
known  that  a  man  was  from  the  Coeur  d'Alenes,  he 
would  have  a  hard  time  to  get  a  job,  as  the  Mine 
Owners'  Association  had  sent  out  a  black-list  of  the 
men  that  had  worked  in  the  Coeur  d'Alenes  the  time 
the  Bunker  Hill  mill  was  blown  up  and  left  there 
afterward.  One  of  the  mine  superintendents  that  I 
knew  in  Bingham  told  me  if  it  was  known  a  man 
was  from  the  Coeur  d'Alenes  he  would  have  a  hard 
time  to  get  a  job  in  any  of  the  mining-camps.  That 
was  the  chief  reason  for  men  changing  their  names. 
Some,  no  doubt,  were  afraid  of  being  taken  back, 
but  it  was  soon  known  that  the  authorities  were  not 
looking  for  any  one. 

I  worked  in  Bingham  until  the  Fourth  of  July, 
and  went  from  there  to  Salt  Lake  to  spend  the 
Fourth,  as  it  is  only  twenty-four  miles.  There  was 
no  miners'  union  at  Bingham  at  that  time.  I  went 
out  to  the  mouth  of  Little  Cottonwood  Canon  to 
work  for  some  contractors  that  were  sinking  a  shaft 
there,  worked  a  couple  of  months,  and  then  got  in 


WE   BLOW   UP   THE  BUNKER  HILL    MILL 

on  the  contract.  I  worked  there  until  Christmas, 
and  then  went  back  to  Bingham  and  worked  that 
winter.  I  worked  in  and  around  Salt  Lake  City  until 
the  next  fall,  and  then  went  to  San  Francisco.  I 
went  up  to  Lake  County,  California,  stayed  that 
winter,  took  a  trip  from  there  to  Los  Angeles,  and 
then  went  back  to  Salt  Lake  City.  I  drove  a  milk 
wagon  there  the  next  summer  for  the  Keystone 
Dairy,  went  to  Arizona  the  next  winter,  and  worked 
in  a  mine  there  until  about  March,  when  I  returned 
to  Salt  Lake  City.  I  then  went  to  Nevada  and  worked 
in  the  mines  a  short  time  at  State  line,  then  came 
back  to  Salt  Lake  again  and  took  a  short  trip  up 
into  southern  Idaho  with  a  party  to  look  at  some 
prospects,  but  only  stayed  a  short  time. 

During  all  this  time  I  did  not  save  any  money, 
though  I  worked  nearly  all  the  time  and  always  got 
the  highest  wages,  and  contracted  some  and  made 
good  money.  I  made  many  good  resolutions,  and 
often  saved  up  a  few  hundred  dollars  and  thought 
I  would  get  into  some  little  business  for  myself. 
When  I  would  get  away  from  town,  as  I  often  did, 
in  some  out-of-the-way  place,  I  would  save  my  money 
and  make  good  resolutions ;  but  how  soon  I  would 
forget  them  when  I  would  strike  town  and  see  a 
faro  game  running,  or  a  game  of  poker;  my  money 
would  burn  my  pocket.  There  were  many  other  at- 
45 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

tractions,  and  money  always  soon  got  away.  I  al- 
ways bought  plenty  of  good  clothes  and  lived  well. 

I  will  now  relate  the  results  of  the  Coeur  d'Alene 
strike.  There  was  martial  law  there  for  the  best 
part  of  a  year.  I  think  there  was  only  one  tried, 
that  was  Paul  Corcoran,  secretary  of  the  Burke 
union.  He  was  sent  to  the  penitentiary  for  seventeen 
years,  and  was  pardoned  in  about  that  many  months 
by  a  new  governor. 

The  fact  is  clear  that  the  head  officials  of  the 
Western  Federation  of  Miners  did  not  have  the  best 
interests  of  the  union  men  in  the  Coeur  d'Alenes  at 
heart.  They  surely  must  have  known  they  could  not 
forcibly  take  possession  of  a  railroad  train,  and 
twelve  or  fifteen  armed  men  run  that  train  twenty 
miles  and  take  dynamite  from  a  magazine  and  de- 
stroy a  quarter  of  a  million  dollars'  worth  of  prop- 
erty in  broad  daylight  in  a  civilized  country  like 
this,  and  nothing  be  done  about  it.  This  was  one  of 
the  best  organized  districts,  with  the  exception  of 
Wardner,  that  there  was  in  the  country.  Mullen, 
(Jem,  and  Burke,  and  all  the  mines  close  to  these 
towns  paid  the  union  scale  of  wages  and  recognized 
the  union,  and  all  the  secretary  had  to  do  to  stop 
anybody  from  working  that  did  not  belong  to  the 
union  was  to  tell  the  foreman  at  the  mine,  and  if  he 
went  to  work  they  would  fire  him;  but  there  was 
46 


WE   BLOW   UP   THE  BUNKER   HILL    MILL 

hardly  anybody  that  attempted  to  go  to  work  if  he 
did  not  belong  to  the  union.  If  he  did  not  have  the 
money  to  join,  the  secretary  would  take  an  order 
from  him,  and  the  company  would  hold  the  money 
for  him  and  pay  him  pay-day.  To  be  brief,  they  had 
everything  they  asked  except  at  this  one  mine  at 
Wardner,  and  they  took  this  course  to  make  them 
come  to  terms,  and  thus  for  revenge  on  this  one 
mine  they  disrupted  the  best  organized  camps  in  the 
country;  for  they  could  not  be  more  thoroughly 
organized.  This  strike  broke  up  every  union  in  the 
district  for  a  good  while.  They  have  some  unions 
organized  there  again  now,  but  there  is  only  one 
mine  in  the  district,  the  Hercules,  where  a  union  man 
dare  say  he  is  a  union  man  or  attend  a  meeting,  and 
hardly  any  of  the  old  miners  ever  got  work  there 
again,  except  at  the  Hercules  mine,  and  the  man- 
ager of  this  mine  was  mixed  up  in  this  strike. 


47 


CHAPTER  FOUR 

I    GO    TO    UVE    IN    CRIPPLE    CREEK 

ABOUT  the  middle  of  July,  1902,  I  left  Salt 
Lake  City  with  Arthur  Dulan  for  Cripple 
Creek,  Col.  On  arriving  in  the  district  I 
stopped  at  Victor  first.  I  only  stayed  there  a  few 
days,  and  then  went  over  to  Independence,  and  Mr. 
Dulan  introduced  me  to  Johnnie  Neville,  who  ran  a 
saloon.  He  was  an  old  miner,  and  got  hurt  by  a 
man  falling  on  him  in  a  stope,  and  so  had  to  stop 
work,  and  went  into  the  saloon  business.  Mr.  Neville 
was  a  liberal  and  good-hearted  fellow.  He  and  I  got 
to  be  quite  good  friends,  and  I  boarded  with  him 
quite  a  while. 

I  will  give  a  little  account  of  the  Cripple  Creek 
district  and  its  surroundings.  This  was  then  the 
greatest  gold-producing  camp  in  the  world.  It  is 
about  one  hundred  miles  from  Denver,  and  about 
thirty  miles  from  Colorado  Springs.  It  has  three 
different  railroads  running  to  it,  one  from  Flor- 
ence and  two  from  Colorado  Springs.  The  altitude 
is  about  ten  thousand  feet  above  sea  level.  The  cli- 
48 


I    GO    TO   LIVE    IN    CRIPPLE    CREEK 

mate  is  mild,  and  there  is  very  little  snow  in  winter. 
The  country  is  not  rough  like  most  mining-camps. 
It  is  a  long  way  to  bed-rock — in  some  places  nearly 
a  hundred  feet — so  it  is  a  pretty  hard  place  to 
prospect.  I  think  the  district  has  a  population  of 
about  thirty  thousand. 

Cripple  Creek  is  the  largest  town,  and  Victor 
next,  and  there  are  several  other  smaller  towns. 
Goldfield,  Independence,  Altman,  and  Midway  are 
on  Bull  Hill.  Then  Elkton  and  Anaconda  lie  between 
Victor  and  Cripple  Creek,  and  Cameron  lies  on  the 
north  side,  at  the  foot  of  Bull  Hill.  There  is  an 
electric-car  system  all  over  the  district,  and  you  can 
ride  from  Cripple  Creek  to  Victor  for  ten  cents,  and 
the  cars  run  every  half-hour.  The  steam  roads  also 
run  suburban  trains,  so  you  can  ride  practically  all 
over  the  district.  It  is  more  like  living  in  a  city  than 
a  mining-camp.  They  have  a  fine  opera-house  at 
Victor,  and  also  one  at  Cripple  Creek,  and  nearly  all 
the  good  plays  come  there.  There  are  good  hotels. 
There  are  no  company  boarding-houses  or  stores. 
All  work  at  the  mines  is  eight  hours.  The  wages 
run  from  $3  to  $4  per  day,  and  without  an  exception 
this  is  the  finest  mining-camp  to  work  at  that  there 
is  in  the  country,  if  not  in  the  world.  I  think  they 
employ  about  six  thousand  miners.  There  are  hardly 
any  foreigners  there,  and  no  Chinamen  at  all. 
49 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

Mr.  Neville  introduced  me  to  some  of  the  mine 
managers,  and  I  got  a  job  in  a  few  days  in  the 
Trachyte  mine.  I  had  learned  to  mine  pretty  well 
by  this  time,  and  ran  a  machine  drill.  I  worked  at 
the  Trachyte  about  four  months,  and  then  had  a 
little  trouble  with  the  engineer  and  quit.  I  got  a 
job  right  away  at  the  Hull  City  mine.  I  worked  in 
the  Hull  City  altogether  three  or  four  months.  Then 
I  went  over  to  the  Vindicator  No.  1  with  Mr.  War- 
ren, the  contractor  I  was  working  for  at  the  Hull 
City.  I  worked  for  them  till  the  strike  in  August, 
1903. 

When  I  was  working  here  at  the  Vindicator  I  got 
to  "  high  grading."  Most  of  the  miners  were  look- 
ing for  high-grade  ore  or  "  glommings  " — "  some- 
thing good  for  the  vest  pocket,"  they  called  it.  The 
other  ore  they  called  "  company  ore."  'Most  all  the 
paying  mines  there  had  more  or  less  "  high  grade  " 
in  bunches.  Some  places  in  the  ore  chutes  you  would 
find  sylvanite  that  was  almost  pure  gold.  There  was 
plenty  of  ore  that  would  run  $2  or  $3  a  pound. 
There  were  two  of  us  working  alone  in  the  stope  when 
I  started.  We  would  put  high-grade  screenings  be- 
tween our  underclothes  and  pants  legs,  down  where 
they  were  tucked  into  our  shoes.  I  remember  once 
of  carrying  out  a  little  over  fifty  pounds  stored  away 
in  my  clothes.  My  partner  said  to  me,  if  I  fell  down, 
50 


I    GO    TO    LIVE    IN    CRIPPLE    CREEK 

I  would  not  be  able  to  get  up  again.  Still,  altogether, 
I  did  not  get  so  much  as  many  did.  In  all  I  must  have 
made  not  to  exceed  $500  "  high-grading  "  while  I  was 
in  Cripple  Creek. 

I  believe  there  have  been  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  dollars  taken  out  of  these  mines  this  way.  I 
know  of  one  man  that  it  was  said  made  about 
$20,000  in  two  years,  and  smaller  amounts  are 
accredited  to  others.  There  was  a  superintendent 
at  Independence  that  some  of  the  miners  have  told 
me  they  stood  in  with,  and  had  to  divide  up  with. 
He  was  a  gambling  fiend,  and  used  to  lose  twice  as 
much  as  his  salary  was  every  month  gambling.  There 
were  plenty  of  assayers  that  made  a  business  of 
buying  stolen  ore.  There  were  four  assay  shops  in 
the  little  town  of  Independence,  and  besides  the  pro- 
ducing mines  had  their  own  assayers.  These  outside 
assayers  were  mostly  all  there  to  buy  high-grade 
ore  from  the  miners.  The  miner  would  steal  it  from 
the  mine,  and  when  he  took  it  to  the  assayer  to  sell 
it,  the  assayer  would  steal  about  half  of  it  from  the 
miner,  and  the  miner  could  not  say  anything,  and 
the  assayer  knew  this.  The  only  thing  he  could  do 
was  to  take  it  to  another  assayer,  but  I  never  found 
any  difference.  They  were  all  alike,  and  had  an 
understanding  with  each  other,  and  they  would  all 
give  about  the  same  returns.  They  would  buy  any- 
51 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

thing  that  would  run  fifty  cents  or  over  a  pound, 
and  some  would  buy  a  lower  grade.  There  were  sev- 
eral of  these  assay  offices  blown  up  in  Cripple  Creek 
— once,  I  think,  seven  in  one  night.  This  was  laid 
to  the  mine  owners,  and  no  doubt  they  had  it  done, 
thinking  this  would  scare  the  assayers  out,  and 
the  miners  would  have  no  place  to  sell  the  ore  and 
would  not  steal  it.  The  mine  owners  used  to  watch 
pretty  close,  and  in  some  mines  made  the  miners 
change  their  clothes  down  to  their  underclothes  at 
the  mines,  but  there  was  always  some  way  to  get 
"  high  grade  "  out. 

I  worked  around  the  mines  on  Bull  Hill  about  a 
year  before  the  strike,  spending  my  money  as  fast 
as  I  earned  it.  I  worked  pretty  steadily  and  got 
good  wages — $4  per  day  of  eight  hours  most  of 
the  time,  and  the  "  high  grade "  on  the  side.  Still 
I  was  a  very  unhappy  man,  and  seemingly  had  no 
mind  of  my  own  and  no  purpose  in  life,  and  often 
wished  I  was  dead,  and  often  thought  to  end  my  mis- 
erable existence.  I  tried  to  be  cheerful,  and  think 
perhaps  I  made  a  good  showing  on  the  outside,  but 
if  any  human  mortal  could  have  read  my  inner 
thoughts  as  God  can,  they  would  have  had  a  dif- 
ferent story  to  tell. 

I  often  drank  to  stop  and  deaden  my  thoughts, 
for  sometimes  my  past  life  would  rise  up  before  me 
52 


I   GO   TO   LIVE    IN    CRIPPLE    CREEK 

as  fresh  as  though  it  was  but  a  day  ago,  and,  try 
as  hard  as  I  could,  I  could  not  get  it  out  of  my 
mind.  I  would  think  of  my  dear  wife  and  little  girl, 
and  wonder  if  they  were  still  living  and  how  they 
were  getting  along.  At  such  times  I  would  go  to 
the  saloon  and  drink  to  drown  the  sorrow,  as  I 
thought  I  must  forget  that  they  were  anything  to 
me.  I  often  thought  I  would  take  a  trip  back  there 
and  disguise  myself  and  see  what  had  become  of 
them,  but  I  never  got  started.  I  used  to  go  out  in 
company  some,  but  never  enjoyed  myself. 

I  met  a  lady  in  Cripple  Creek  and  kept  company 
with  her  a  short  time  that  spring,  and  asked  her  to 
marry  me,  and  she  consented.  She  was  a  widow  and 
was  keeping  house;  her  husband  was  killed  in  the 
mines  there  a  few  years  before.  Her  name  was  Ida 
Toney.  I  saved  up  a  little  money,  and  we  were  mar- 
ried. I  think  this  was  in  June.  I  did  not  mean  any- 
thing wrong  to  her,  and  thought  the  past  dead  to 
me,  and  thought  if  I  had  some  place  I  could  call 
home  I  would  be  more  contented.  I  was  going  under 
an  assumed  name,  and  it  was  about  seven  years  since 
I  had  heard  from  home.  I  had  never  met  any  one 
I  knew,  and  as  I  had  changed  a  great  deal  during 
that  time,  I  did  not  think  any  one  would  recognize 
me. 

This  was  a  good,  true  little  woman,  and  while  I 
53 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

might  not  have  loved  her  as  a  man  ought  to  love 
the  woman  he  is  going  to  make  his  wife,  still  I  loved 
her  as  much  as  I  could  love  any  one,  and  thought 
enough  of  her  to  be  good  to  her,  and  intended  to 
take  care  of  her  well.  I  had  worked  about  two 
months  after  we  were  married  when  the  strike  was 
called  in  August,  1903.  In  that  short  time  after  we 
were  married,  I  had  saved  up  a  little  money  and 
bought  some  furniture,  and  had  it  almost  paid  for, 
and  fixed  up  the  house  some.  Mrs.  Toney  owned  the 
house  herself. 


CHAPTER    FIVE 

THE    BIG    STRIKE    OP   1903 

I  HAD  never  taken  any  particular  interest  in 
unions  up  to  this  time.  I  had  never  worked 
anywhere,  since  leaving  Burke,  Idaho,  where 
there  was  a  miners'  union  till  I  came  to  Cripple 
Creek.  W.  F.  Davis  and  W.  B.  Easterly  had  come 
to  me  when  I  first  went  to  work  in  the  district,  and 
asked  me  to  join  the  Altaian  union.  I  knew  Davis 
from  the  Cceur  d'Alenes.  He  was  the  man  that  had 
command  of  the  union  men  when  we  blew  up  the 
Bunker  Hill  and  Sullivan  mill.  He  was  president  of 
the  Altman  union  now,  and  Easterly  was  secretary. 
So  after  I  had  a  pay-day  I  went  up  and  joined  this 
union.  Still,  I  never  took  much  interest  in  it  till  the 
strike. 

The  Cripple  Creek  district  was  considered  a  union 
district,  notwithstanding  there  were  a  good  many 
men  working  there  that  did  not  belong  to  the  union, 
and  part  of  the  mines  ran  on  the  open-shop  prin- 
ciple. The  big  mines  on  Bull  Hill  all  recognized  the 
unions,  and  this  end  practically  controlled  the  unions 
55 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

of  the  district.  There  were  eight  unions  in  the  dis- 
trict— one  miners'  union  at  Victor,  one  at  Cripple 
Creek,  one  at  Anaconda,  and  one  at  Altman;  one 
engineers'  union  at  Victor,  one  at  Cripple  Creek, 
and  one  at  Independence;  and  a  mill-  and  smelter- 
men's  union  at  Victor.  These  unions  each  selected 
one  or  two  delegates,  and  the  delegates  composed 
the  district  union. 

The  Victor  union  was  the  largest  and  most  con- 
servative. The  men  belonging  to  the  Free  Coinage 
union  at  Altman,  where  I  was  a  member,  used  to 
often  be  called  "  the  Bull  Hill  dynamiters."  This  was 
only  the  third  largest  miners'  union  in  the  district, 
but  they  had  always  had  very  radical  leaders.  Dan  Mc- 
Ginley  had  been  a  former  leader.  He  had  been  looked 
up  to  as  a  great  man,  and  although  dead  they  used 
to  keep  his  memory  alive  by  having  his  picture 
hanging  in  the  union  hall. 

The  Cripple  Creek  district  was  so  large  that  the 
unions  could  not  control  it  the  same  as  they  did  the 
Coeur  d'Alenes,  and  non-union  men  were  pretty  safe 
in  big  towns  like  Victor  and  Cripple  Creek,  but  the 
Free  Coinage  union  had  the  vicinity  of  Bull  Hill 
well  under  their  control,  the  same  as  in  the  Coeur 
d'Alenes,  and  there  was  hardly  a  man  both  working 
and  living  on  Bull  Hill  that  did  not  belong  to  some 
of  the  unions.  There  had  been  a  great  many  men 
56 


THE    BIG    STRIKE    OF    1903 

beaten  up  and  run  away  from  there  because  they 
did  not  join  the  unions,  or  pay  their  dues,  or  be- 
cause they  were  suspected  of  being  spies.  The  Free 
Coinage  miners'  union  kept  a  "  timber  gang,"  as 
they  called  them,  to  do  this  work.  Easterly,  who 
was  ex-secretary,  and  Sherman  Parker,  who  was  sec- 
retary when  the  strike  came,  had  helped  to  do  this 
kind  of  work  before  they  became  officers  of  the 
union.  Steve  Adams,  Billy  Aikman,  "  Slim  "  Camp- 
bell, H.  H.  McKinney,  Billy  Gaffney,  and  Ed  Min- 
ster and  others  were  in  the  gang.  These  men  hardly 
ever  worked  and  always  seemed  to  have  plenty  of 
money,  and  Steve  Adams  has  since  told  me  they  were 
ready  for  any  old  thing,  from  running  men  out  of 
the  district  to  killing  them,  as  long  as  they  got  the 
money. 

This  strike  in  August,  1903,  was  called  because 
the  Standard  mill  in  Colorado  City  discriminated 
against  union  men,  and  the  miners  at  Cripple  Creek 
were  called  out  in  order  to  cut  off  the  ore  supply 
from  the  Standard  mill  and  force  a  settlement.  The 
Telluride  mill  was  also  closed  at  Colorado  City.  The 
Portland  mine  was  the  only  big  mine  that  was  not 
called  out,  as  it  had  its  own  mills  and  granted  the 
union's  demand.  There  were  a  few  smaller  mines 
working,  but  only  a  few.  One  strike  against  the  mills 
was  called  in  February,  and  some  of  the  miners  went 
57 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

out  for  a  short  time  in  March.  Then  there  was  a 
settlement  for  a  while,  but  in  July  the  mill-men  were 
called  out  again,  because  it  was  claimed  Mr.  Mac- 
Neill,  the  manager  of  the  Standard  mill,  was  not 
keeping  his  agreement;  and  on  August  10th  the 
Cripple  Creek  miners  went  out  again. 

I  knew  this  whole  thing  had  been  arranged  at  the 
Western  Federation  of  Miners'  convention  at  Den- 
ver in  May  and  June  of  1903.  And  while  I  do  not 
think  the  convention  acted  on  it  officially,  the  leaders 
on  the  executive  board  and  some  of  the  local  leaders 
in  Colorado  agreed  to  make  Colorado  a  "  slaughter 
ground,"  as  W.  F.  Davis  later  expressed  it  to  me — 
that  is,  to  call  out  all  the  miners,  mill-men,  and 
smelter-men  in  Colorado,  and  force  all  the  manage- 
ments to  give  them  all  an  eight-hour  day  and  a 
recognition  of  the  union.  Most  places  in  the  mines 
and  mills  of  Colorado  had  the  eight-hour  day — 
though  the  smelter-men  and  the  Leadville  miners  and 
perhaps  some  others  did  not.  But  there  were  many 
conditions  which  the  Federation  leaders  did  not  like, 
and  they  meant  to  change  them  at  this  time.  Hay- 
wood  and  Moyer  and  others  of  the  labor  leaders 
have  told  me  that  they  took  advantage  of  the  legis- 
lature failing  to  pass  an  eight-hour  bill  after  the 
State  had  voted  for  it  the  year  before  by  such  a  large 
majority,  to  make  all  the  mines,  mills,  and  smelters, 
58 


THE  BIG  STRIKE  OF  1903 
where  unions  were  organized,  recognize  the  unions 
and  pay  the  union's  scale  of  wages  all  over  Colorado. 
At  the  same  convention,  they  passed  a  resolution 
allowing  the  head  officers  of  the  union  to  call  a  strike 
if  they  thought  best  to,  when  they  wanted  to  sup- 
port another  strike. 

Mr.  Moyer  and  Mr.  Haywood  have  always  denied 
that  they  had  anything  to  do  with  calling  this  Crip- 
ple Creek  strike,  because  this  resolution  did  not  take 
effect  for  six  months,  until  after  it  was  indorsed  by 
the  local  unions.  They  claimed  that  the  district 
union  of  Cripple  Creek  called  the  strike  there.  This 
is  true,  they  did  call  the  strike,  but  they  were  acting 
on  advice,  and  you  might  say  orders,  from  Moyer 
and  Haywood.  The  district  union  in  Cripple  Creek 
was  mostly  composed  of  men  that  were  controlled 
by  Moyer  and  Haywood,  and  it  appointed  three  men 
on  the  committee  to  see  about  calling  the  strike,  and 
they  approved  of  it.  Sherman  Parker  and  W.  F. 
Davis  of  the  Altman  union  were  on  this,  and  Charles 
Kennison  of  Cripple  Creek,  all  radical  men ;  and  the 
Victor  union,  that  was  the  largest  miners'  union  in 
the  district,  and  was  conservative,  had  no  repre- 
sentative at  all,  while  the  most  radical  one  and  the 
next  to  the  smallest,  at  Altman,  had  two.  If  this 
sympathetic  strike  had  been  left  to  a  referendum 
vote  of  the  miners  of  the  district,  it  never  would 
59 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 
have  passed,  and  the  men  who  favored  this  strike 
knew  this.  I  never  will  think  it  is  wise  to  call  out 
four  or  five  thousand  men  to  enforce  the  demands 
of  a  hundred  and  fifty  or  two  hundred.  And  I  know 
that  many  quit  against  their  will  when  the  order 
came. 

Some  will  ask,  "  What  did  they  quit  for? — they  did 
not  have  to."  There  are  several  reasons  why  men  quit 
against  their  will.  In  the  first  place,  the  unions  were 
in  the  great  majority,  and  had  most  of  the  local 
peace  officers  on  their  side.  Men  had  been  run  out 
of  the  district  and  beaten  up  because  they  would 
not  join  the  union,  and  they  could  not  expect  much 
protection  from  the  local  authorities,  and  again  men 
did  not  like  to  be  called  "  scabs  "  and  to  have  their 
names,  and  in  many  instances  their  photographs, 
sent  to  every  miners'  union  in  the  country,  for 
miners  travel  around  a  good  deal.  The  secretaries 
of  the  unions  post  up  these  names  in  the  union 
halls,  and  also  the  photographs,  if  they  have  them. 
There  is  'most  always  some  one  in  every  camp  that 
knows  these  men,  and  many  men  have  disappeared 
in  mysterious  ways,  and  others  have  been  killed  in 
various  ways  while  working  in  the  mines.  These  are 
always  reported  as  accidents,  and  some  of  them  no 
doubt  are,  but  I  know  of  some  that  were  not,  and 
have  been  told  by  reliable  sources  that  many  are  not, 
60 


THE  BIG  STRIKE  OF  1903 
and  I  know  there  are  many  ways  to  get  away  with 
a  man  working  in  the  mines  and  make  it  appear 
an  accident.  So,  after  taking  all  these  things  into 
consideration,  one  can  readily  understand  why  men 
quit  work  and  go  on  a  strike  when  ordered  to  do  so 
by  their  officers. 

As  I  have  said,  it  was  the  intention  of  the  Fed- 
eration leaders  to  call  the  miners  out  all  over  the 
State,  and  tie  up  the  mines,  mills,  reduction  works, 
and  smelters.  They  called  out  the  smelter-men  at  the 
Globe  and  Grant  smelter  works  at  Denver.  They 
also  tried  to  call  out  all  the  miners  in  the  San  Juan 
district,  as  they  were  well  organized  there,  but  most 
of  the  miners  in  this  district  had  agreements  with 
the  mine  operators  and  would  not  break  them.  How- 
ever, at  Telluride  they  found  a  way  around  this. 
Most  of  the  men  went  on  strike  for  an  eight-hour 
day  for  a  few  mill-men  there,  although  many  of  the 
mill-men  did  not  quit  themselves,  but  were  forced 
to  by  the  closing  of  the  mines.  The  Smuggler-Union 
miners  did  not  strike,  but  they  got  the  cooks  and 
waiters  at  their  boarding-houses  to  leave,  and  this 
gave  the  miners  an  excuse  to  quit,  as  they  would 
not  board  where  there  were  non-union  cooks  and 
waiters.  Telluride  was  the  only  camp  in  the  San 
Juan  district  where  they  succeeded  in  getting  the 
unionists  to  quit  work.  I  think  they  had  from  ten 
61 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

to  twelve  hundred  men  in  the  miners'  union  at  Tel- 
luride. 

C.  H.  Moyer,  president  of  the  Western  Federa- 
tion, tried  to  get  the  miners  out  at  Ouray,  but  they 
finally  decided  not  to  come  out,  after  he  had  got 
them  once  to  vote  to  do  so.  At  Silverton  the  largest 
union  in  the  district  absolutely  refused  to  come  out. 
Most  of  the  coal-miners  in  Colorado  went  on  strike, 
too,  about  this  time. 

But,  as  I  have  stated,  in  Cripple  Creek  the  men 
practically  all  quit  work  when  ordered  to  do  so,  and 
there  was  a  strike  committee  appointed,  and  there 
was  a  circular  sent  out  from  headquarters  to  all 
kinds  of  unions  throughout  the  country  soliciting 
money  for  a  fund  which  they  called  the  "  eight-hour 
fund."  And  they  also  sent  men  all  over  the  country 
soliciting  aid  for  the  strikers.  They  got  up  great 
public  sympathy  because  the  legislatures  refused  to 
pass  the  eight-hour  bill,  as  they  should  have  done 
when  the  people  of  the  State  voted  so  strong  for  it. 
But,  as  I  have  explained,  the  big  strike  at  Cripple 
Creek  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  eight-hour  law, 
and  this  was  the  case  at  Telluride,  so  far  as  the 
miners  themselves  were  concerned. 


CHAPTER    SIX 

THE    MILITIA    COME    TO    CRIPPLE    CREEK 

AT  first,  after  the  strike  was  called  at  Cripple 
Creek,  things  went  on  pretty  orderly  for  two 
or  three  weeks.  The  sheriff  was  a  union  man  be- 
fore he  was  elected,  and  the  union  men  expected  him 
to  protect  them.  There  were  some  non-union  men 
brought  in,  and  some  of  them  were  deputized,  and 
the  union  men  were  after  the  sheriff  to  make  him 
arrest  the  non-union  men  for  carrying  concealed 
weapons,  and  the  mine  operators  were  after  him  to 
disarm  the  union  men.  'Most  every  one  went  armed, 
and  there  were  several  arrested  on  each  side.  If  a 
non-union  man  was  brought  up  before  a  justice  of 
the  peace  that  was  a  union  sympathizer,  he  would 
be  fined  the  limit,  and  if  a  union  man  was  brought 
before  a  non-union  sympathizer,  he  would  be  fined 
the  limit.  The  justices  were  nearly  all  either  union 
men  or  sympathizers,  and  they  would  let  the  union 
men  go  as  light  as  possible,  but  the  non-union 
justices  did  the  same  for  their  men.  The  mine  opera- 
tors were  after  the  sheriff  to  call  upon  Governor 


CONFESSIONS    OF   HARRY   ORCHARD 

Peabody  for  the  militia,  and  the  union  men  were 
after  him  not  to,  but  to  deputize  all  the  men  he 
wanted,  and  they  would  furnish  them,  and  he  was 
between  two  fires.  There  had  been  no  depredations 
committed  this  time,  and  the  strike  committee  as- 
sured the  sheriff  there  would  be  none. 

The  last  of  the  month  there  was  a  non-union  man 
brought  before  a  justice  of  the  peace  in  Anaconda, 
named  Hawkins,  for  carrying  concealed  weapons, 
and  he  was  let  off  with  a  light  fine  or  none  at  all,  I 
have  forgotten  which.  A  few  days  afterward  this 
justice  was  over  at  Altman  one  afternoon,  and  Ed 
Minster  and  "  Slim  "  Campbell,  of  the  Altman  "  tim- 
ber gang,"  slugged  and  beat  him  up  some,  and  this 
was  the  real  beginning  of  hostilities.  Right  after 
this  there  was  an  old  non-union  carpenter  named 
Stewart  taken  out  of  his  house  at  Independence  at 
night,  beaten  up  and  shot  and  left  for  dead.  This 
was  done  by  the  Altman  "  timber  gang."  The  strike 
committee  and  union  leaders  were  always  advising 
the  rank  and  file  of  the  unions  publicly  to  be  quiet 
and  not  commit  any  acts  of  violence,  but  secretly 
they  were  having  these  things  done.  I  did  not  know 
that  then,  of  course.  The  mine  operators  appealed 
to  the  sheriff  to  call  on  the  governor  for  troops,  but 
he  said  he  would  not,  as  he  said  he  was  able  to  handle 
the  situation. 

64 


THE  MILITIA  COME  TO  CRIPPLE  CREEK 
So  the  Mayor  of  Victor  and  some  of  the  leading 
citizens  of  Victor  and  Cripple  Creek  petitioned  the 
governor  for  troops,  and  he  sent  a  committee  to 
investigate,  and  the  troops  followed  the  next  day. 
This  was  on  September  4th,  I  think.  The  troops 
were  in  charge  of  Sherman  Bell,  adjutant-general  of 
Colorado.  I  think  there  were  between  a  thousand 
and  twelve  hundred  of  the  State  militia.  They  did 
not  declare  martial  law  at  first,  but  the  troops  acted 
with  the  civil  authorities. 

I  just  want  to  say  a  word  in  regard  to  the  State 
militia,  and  especially  when  they  are  mustered  in 
on  short  notice.  Every  place  I  have  seen  them, 
there  has  always  been  a  low,  hobo  element  among 
them,  and  while  there  is,  no  doubt,  plenty  of  good 
men,  this  low  rowdy  element  always  take  advantage 
of  their  position  and  commit  many  disgraceful 
things,  and  the  whole  body  are  blamed  for  them.  It 
is  not  my  purpose  to  wrongfully  criticize  either 
party,  but  I  want  to  give  the  facts  as  they  occurred. 
There  were  several  deputies  there,  working  with  the 
militia,  that  were  men  who  had  just  recently  been 
paroled  or  pardoned  from  the  State  penitentiary, 
and  had  come  almost  direct  to  Cripple  Creek  and 
been  deputized.  Some  of  these  men  were  well  known 
in  the  district,  and  had  been  sent  to  the  penitentiary 
from  there,  and  they  were  considered  all-round  bad 
65 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

men,  and  showed  no  signs  of  reform.  When  I  saw 
some  of  these  miltia  and  ex-convicts  going  around 
to  men's  houses  searching  for  firearms — sometimes 
at  night  after  men  had  retired ;  and  I  knew  some  of 
them  had  no  respect  for  the  privacy  of  the  wives  and 
families — it  made  me  angry.  This,  of  course,  did  not 
happen  much,  but  it  happened  enough  to  create  a 
very  bitter  feeling. 

In  this  strike,  as  in  most  others,  the  real  issue 
at  stake  was  soon  lost  sight  of.  Especially  if  the 
militia  is  called  upon,  a  strike  soon  narrows  down 
to  a  personal  enmity  between  the  militia  and  the  non- 
union men  on  one  side,  and  the  union  men  on  the 
other.  As  frictions  arise,  as  they  surely  will,  most 
of  the  strikers  forget  the  real  cause  of  the  strike, 
and  although  a  man  at  first  might  not  have  been 
in  sympathy  with  the  strike,  and  might  have  known 
it  was  wrong,  as  he  sees  the  non-union  men  being 
shipped  in  and  herded  by  the  militia  like  cattle,  he 
forgets  all  about  this,  and  he  hates  these  men  and 
hates  the  militia,  and  they  become  more  and  more 
bitter  toward  each  other.  The  union  men  call  the 
militia  "  scabs  "  and  "  scab  herders,"  and  the  militia 
call  the  union  men  anarchists  and  dynamiters,  and 
the  breach  widens  as  the  strike  proceeds,  and  it  is 
more  like  two  hostile  armies — only  the  strikers  know 
they  cannot  fight  in  the  open.  After  they  are  prod- 
66 


THE  MILITIA   COME   TO  CRIPPLE  CREEK 

ded  around  with  a  rifle  and  bayonet  a  while,  they 
begin  to  think  up  some  way  to  get  even,  and  men 
will  do  things  at  such  times,  and  feel  justified  in, 
that  they  would  not  think  of  at  ordinary  times. 

When  the  militia  first  arrived  in  the  Cripple  Creek 
district,  they  were  divided  into  three  camps — one 
near  Anaconda,  one  between  Victor  and  Goldfield, 
and  the  other  on  Bull  Hill  between  Independence 
and  Altman.  There  had  been  no  disturbance  there 
since  Stewart  had  been  beaten  up  and  shot,  and  there 
wasn't  much  for  the  militia  to  do  that  way  at  first. 
Their  first  work  was  to  guard  the  mines,  as  fast  as 
they  got  non-union  men  to  start  them  up.  During 
August  there  were  union  pickets  armed  with  six- 
shooters  around  the  mines,  but  there  were  no  union 
pickets  placed  at  the  mines  after  the  militia  arrived. 
The  militia  patrolled  the  district  day  and  night  with 
cavalry,  and  there  were  guards  stationed  at  all  the 
non-union  mines. 


67 


CHAPTER    SEVEN 

THE    EXPLOSION    IN    THE    VINDICATOR    MINE 

I   THOUGHT  at  first  I  would  not  have  anything 
to  do  with  the  strike,  and  I  had  taken  no  part 
in  it  up  to  the  time  the  militia  came.  I  had  been 
"  high-grading,"  and  had  a  little  money  saved  up, 
and  had  not  asked  for  any  relief  from  the  union. 
A  few  days  after  the  militia  arrived,  Johnnie  Neville 
and  myself  went  to  Denver,  and  went  from  there 
over  to  Routt  County  hunting,  and  were  gone  about 
a  month. 

There  had  nothing  unusual  occurred  then.  But 
soon  after  we  left,  the  militia  made  several  arrests 
of  men  active  in  the  union — most  of  them  from  the 
Bull  Hill  end  of  the  district.  Some  of  these  men, 
whose  names  I  remember,  were  Sherman  Parker,  W. 
F.  Davis,  W.  B.  Easterly,  H.  H.  McKinney,  Tom 
Foster,  Paddy  Mulaney,  "  Slim  "  Campbell,  and  Vic- 
tor Poole.  The  militia  established  a  "  bull-pen  "  at 
Goldfield.  This  was  nothing  like  the  "  bull-pen  "  in 
the  Co3ur  d'Alenes.  It  was  a  small  affair.  I  do  not 
think  they  ever  had  had  more  than  twenty  arrested 


EXPLOSION    IN    THE    VINDICATOR   MINE 

at  once  up  to  that  time.  They  used  a  small  jail  at 
first,  and  afterward  they  built  a  special  house.  This 
was  not  over  twelve  by  twenty  feet,  I  should  say. 

We  thought  perhaps  the  strike  would  be  settled 
by  the  time  we  came  back  from  hunting,  but  we 
found  out  when  we  came  out  from  the  hills  that  it 
was  far  from  settled,  and  was  getting  worse  all  the 
time.  If  I  had  not  been  married  there,  I  would  not 
have  gone  back,  but  I  went  back  about  the  middle 
of  October. 

While  we  had  been  gone,  the  civil  courts  and  the 
militia  officers  had  been  fighting  over  the  union 
leaders  they  had  in  the  "bull-pen."  The  judge  of 
the  district  court  had  issued  habeas  corpus  papers 
to  compel  the  militia  officers  to  bring  these  men  into 
court  and  show  cause  for  holding  them.  The  officers 
were  satisfied  they  ought  to  hold  these  men,  but  they 
knew  they  could  not  prove  anything  against  them  and 
did  not  want  to  take  them  into  court.  But  they  were 
finally  brought  into  court,  and  the  judge  ordered  them 
released  or  turned  over  to  the  civil  authorities.  The 
officers  refused  at  first  to  do  this,  and  the  union 
leaders  wanted  the  judge  to  have  the  sheriff  enforce 
his  order,  and  the  sheriff  to  deputize  enough  men 
and  arm  them  to  carry  it  out.  This  would  have  meant 
much  bloodshed,  as  it  would  not  have  been  much 
trouble  to  get  men  to  fight  the  militia,  and  the  miners 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

had  a  good  many  arms  and  plenty  of  ammunition. 
But  the  lawyers  advised  the  judge  not  to  do  this. 

Now,  nothing  could  have  happened  to  suit  the 
head  officers  of  the  union  any  better  than  this,  un- 
less it  would  have  been  for  the  judge  to  direct  the 
sheriff  to  enforce  his  order.  This  looked  to  the  pub- 
lic like  persecution,  and  as  if  these  militia  officers 
wanted  to  hold  these  men  in  the  "  bull-pen  "  just 
because  they  were  union  men  and  leaders.  But  finally 
the  governor  ordered  the  union  men  released,  and 
there  was  no  more  trouble  then. 

After  this  first  clash  between  the  civil  officers  and 
the  militia,  things  went  along  pretty  quiet  for  a 
time.  The  militia  released  the  men,  and  after  that 
they  and  the  civil  officers  worked  more  in  harmony. 
I  did  not  take  any  active  part.  I  attended  the  union 
meetings  and  felt  more  in  sympathy  with  them,  as 
I,  like  'most  every  one  else,  thought  they  were  per- 
secuting these  men  because  they  were  active  union 
men,  and  I  hated  the  militia  more  than  I  did  the 
non-union  men.  But  I  hated  them  all,  and  felt  more 
bitter  against  them  all  the  time.  Some  of  the  militia 
were  camped  at  first  not  more  than  a  hundred  yards 
from  our  house.  There  were  some  kids  among  them 
that  did  not  look  to  be  more  than  fifteen  years  old. 
They  would  be  peddling  ham  and  anything  else  they 
had  to  the  saloons  for  whisky,  and  the  better  ac- 
70 


EXPLOSION    IN   THE    VINDICATOR   MINE 

quainted  they  got  with  the  people,  the  more  officious 
they  got.  I  am  speaking  of  these  things  to  show 
the  reader  how  such  bitter  feelings  get  worked  up 
between  men  at  such  times.  There  were  some  of  the 
militia  that  lived,  or  had  lived,  in  the  district,  and 
they  sometimes  had  some  old  score  to  settle  with 
the  union  men,  as  none  of  the  union  belonged  to  the 
militia. 

During  the  quiet  time  I  went  to  "  high-grading  " 
again  in  the  Vindicator  mine.  This  was  a  little  risky, 
as  the  shaft  we  had  to  go  down  was  only  about  a 
hundred  feet  from  the  shaft  house,  where  some  of 
the  militia  were  camped ;  but  as  this  shaft  had  no 
shaft  house  over  it,  we  could  get  out  of  sight  pretty 
quick.  This  "  high-grading "  was  no  easy  job,  as 
we  had  to  climb  down  an  old  man-way  900  feet, 
where  the  ladders  were  out  in  some  places,  and  then 
go  through  old  stopes  and  drifts  2,000  or  3,000 
feet,  dig  out  our  load,  and  pack  it  back.  This 
would  take  us  nearly  all  night.  We  would  pack  all 
the  way  from  forty  to  eighty  pounds.  Sometimes 
this  would  not  be  very  high  grade ;  we  got  from  fifty 
cents  to  a  dollar  a  pound  for  it.  When  it  got  below 
that,  we  quit. 

During  our  trip  into  this  mine,  we  discovered  they 
had  stored  about  a  car-load  of  dynamite  in  a  cross- 
cut on  the  eighth  level  of  the  mine.  I  met  Davis,  the 
71 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

president  of  the  Altman  union,  right  after  that,  and, 
more  as  a  joke  than  anything  else,  I  said  there  was 
a  car-load  of  powder  down  in  the  mine,  and  if  they 
wanted  to  do  anything,  they  could  go  down  and 
blow  that  up.  But  he  seemed  to  take  it  seriously, 
and  talked  about  how  we  could  do  it.  A  few  days 
afterward  they  started  this  mine  up,  as  they  were 
starting  the  mines  as  fast  as  they  could  get  men. 
The  strike  leaders  would  report  to  the  unions  every 
week  that  the  mines  had  only  a  few  men,  and  would 
soon  have  to  settle  with  the  unions,  but  it  was  very 
evident  that,  while  the  mine  owners  might  not  be 
getting  first-class  men,  they  were  getting  all  the 
men  they  wanted,  and  that  they  had  no  intention 
of  yielding  to  the  demands  of  the  union. 

Davis  came  to  me  a  few  days  afterward  and 
wanted  to  know  if  I  would  go  down  and  set  that 
powder  off  when  the  shift  was  at  work.  He  said  he 
would  get  "Slim"  Campbell  to  go  with  me,  and 
give  me  $200.  After  he  had  talked  a  while,  he  said 
he  would  have  to  go  and  get  this  money  at  Federa- 
tion headquarters,  and  it  might  take  him  three  or  four 
days  after  we  did  the  job,  but  he  would  be  sure  to 
get  it.  He  said  we  would  have  to  do  something  to 
scare  these  "  scabs  "  away,  and  scare  our  men  and 
keep  them  in  line,  or  the  strike  was  lost. 

Now,  when  Davis  talked  this  way  to  me,  it  was 
72 


EXPLOSION    IN    THE    VINDICATOR   MINE 

the  first  time  I  ever  knew  that  the  head  officers  of 
the  Federation  were  responsible  for  the  many  dep- 
redations that  had  been  laid  to  the  Western  Fed- 
eration of  Miners.  I  did  always  believe  that  these 
crimes  were  caused  by  union  men,  as  the  victim  was 
invariably  some  one  opposed  to  the  union,  but  I 
always  supposed  some  hot-headed  union  man  did 
these  things  of  his  own  accord,  and  'most  all  of  the 
union  men  believed  this,  for  if  it  had  been  known 
the  strike  leaders  were  responsible  for  any  such 
violence,  the  union  would  not  have  tolerated  it  for 
a  minute.  But  after  Davis  proposed  to  me  to  blow  up 
the  Vindicator  mine,  and  said  he  would  have  to  go  to 
Denver  to  get  the  money  for  me,  I  then  began  to  real- 
ize that  the  head  officers  must  be  behind  these  things. 
Now,  only  looking  at  one  side  of  the  question,  and 
having  no  money — as  the  little  I  did  have  I  depos- 
ited in  the  First  National  Bank  of  Victor,  and  that 
institution  had  failed  and  left  me  without  a  cent — 
the  resentful  feeling  I  had  against  these  "  scabs," 
who  were  taking  our  places,  together  with  the  offer 
of  money,  influenced  me.  I  told  Davis  I  would  go 
down  and  set  off  the  dynamite,  but  I  would  rather 
go  alone  than  with  "  Slim "  Campbell.  He  said  if 
I  would  he  would  give  me  $200.  Of  course,  if  we 
set  this  car-load  of  powder  off,  it  would  blow  out  the 
whole  mine  and  kill  everybody  in  it. 
73 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

I  afterward  thought  I  would  go  and  ask  Joe 
Schultz,  who  had  been  down  there  "  high-grading  " 
with  me,  and  see  what  he  thought  about  it.  He  also 
knew  the  powder  was  there,  as  we  had  gotten  two 
fifty-pound  boxes  of  it,  and  carried  it  up  and  sold 
it  to  some  leasers  we  knew.  After  I  told  him  about 
it  and  about  the  money,  he  said  he  thought  we  would 
be  justified  in  doing  it.  He  was  a  quiet,  conservative 
fellow,  but  this  strike  had  made  him  feel  just  as  I 
did.  So  we  got  our  things  ready,  and  went  down 
in  the  mine,  and  waited  until  we  thought  the  night- 
shift  had  gone  up  to  lunch  at  twelve  o'clock.  We 
had  to  go  by  the  station  on  the  shaft  in  the  eighth 
level  to  go  where  the  powder  was.  We  went  out 
pretty  close  to  the  station,  and  waited  about  ten 
minutes,  and  thought  sure  they  had  all  gone  up, 
and  we  knew  we  had  to  hurry,  as  they  took  only  a 
half -hour  for  lunch. 

We  started  out  to  the  station,  which  was  all 
lighted  up  with  electric  lights,  and  as  we  got  close 
to  it  there  was  a  eager  there,  who  said,  "  Hurry  up, 
boys,  this  is  the  last  cage."  He  thought  we  were  some 
of  the  miners  at  work,  and  had  been  late  getting  out. 
This  so  surprised  us  that  we  began  to  back  up  in 
the  dark,  as  we  were  not  masked  and  he  might  know 
us.  But  he  got  his  light  and  began  to  follow  us,  and 
as  we  had  our  light  out,  we  could  not  go  very  fast 
74 


EXPLOSION    IN   THE    VINDICATOR   MINE 

in  the  dark,  and  we  had  to  make  him  go  back.  We 
took  a  couple  of  shots  at  him,  as  we  both  had  six- 
shooters.  We  did  not  hurt  him,  but  he  went  back 
in  a  hurry,  and  we  knew  we  had  to  get  out  of  the 
mine  as  quick  as  possible,  and  we  did  not  bother 
to  look  for  the  powder.  We  told,  or  at  least  I  told, 
Davis  afterward  it  was  not  there.  I  told  him  we  went 
on  across  to  where  it  was  after  we  shot  at  this  fellow, 
and  they  had  moved  it — which  proved  to  be  true, 
as  we  found  out  afterward  they  had  moved  it  up  into 
the  magazine  the  first  day  they  began  work.  We 
knew  nothing  about  this  when  I  told  Davis,  but  I 
wanted  to  make  out  how  brave  we  were,  and  they, 
of  course,  believed  us,  after  they  learned  it  had  been 
moved. 

But,  to  tell  the  truth  about  myself,  I  was  pretty 
badly  scared,  and  I  think  my  partner  was  in  the 
same  fix.  We  had  to  go  up  a  hundred  feet  to  the 
stope,  and  then  go  a  couple  of  thousand  feet  or  so 
through  a  drift,  and  then  go  down  through  another 
old  stope  on  the  timbers,  and  crawl  on  our  stomachs 
in  some  places  through  a  narrow  passage  we  had  dug 
out  when  we  were  "  high-grading,"  and  climb  about 
nine  hundred  feet  up  an  old,  wet  man-way,  where 
the  ladders  were  out  in  some  places.  The  militia  were 
camped  out  over  a  hundred  feet  from  where  we  came 
up,  and  the  place  was  well  lighted  up  with  electric 
75 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

lights.  We  came  up  as  fast  as  we  possibly  could, 
and  made  good  headway,  as  we  knew  the  way  well 
and  were  used  to  climbing  out  of  there  with  a  load, 
but  still  it  took  us  about  half  an  hour.  My  partner 
wanted  me  to  tell  them,  if  we  were  caught,  that  we 
were  down  counting  how  many  machines  there  were 
running;  but  I  told  him  he  could  do  as  he  pleased, 
I  was  going  to  shoot  my  way  out  and  take  a  chance 
if  the  shaft  was  guarded,  as  we  expected  it  would 
be.  I  knew  this  was  our  best  chance  to  get  out,  for 
if  we  waited  until  the  next  day,  and  we  were  missed, 
they  would  surely  guard  every  possible  place,  al- 
though there  were  a  dozen  or  more  places  we  could 
get  out.  Although  they  had  a  half-hour  to  set 
guards,  there  were  no  guards  at  this  shaft,  and  we 
came  out  unnoticed.  After  we  got  away  so  we  were 
out  of  danger,  the  world  never  looked  quite  so  large  to 
me  before,  and  surely  kind  Providence  was  with  us,  for 
they  had  every  other  entrance  guarded,  and  kept 
them  all  guarded  for  some  days,  thinking  we  were 
still  somewhere  in  the  mine.  I  reported  our  experi- 
ence to  Davis  and  Parker  the  next  day. 

This  caused  no  little  excitement  at  the  mine,  as 
the  eager  reported  it,  and  none  of  the  men  would 
go  down  to  work  again,  but  all  went  home,  and  they 
had  the  sheriff  and  some  of  his  men  over  there  and 
kept  the  soldiers  down  in  the  mines  for  guards.  After 
76 


EXPLOSION    IN    THE    VINDICATOR   MINE 

the  excitement  subsided  a  little,  the  officials  reported 
they  believed  the  eager  was  lying  and  just  made  up 
his  report,  and  they  fired  him.  Whether  the  officials 
believed  this  or  not,  I  do  not  know,  or  whether  they 
just  told  it  so  the  men  would  not  be  afraid  to  work 
in  the  mine,  for  a  good  many  were  quitting.  But 
it  soon  died  out,  and  many  believed  it  was  only  a 
story  gotten  up  by  the  mine  operators  to  keep  the 
soldiers  there. 

I  went  to  Davis  after  this  and  wanted  him  to  let 
me  have  $35.  I  wanted  this  to  pay  some  taxes  for 
my  wife  (Mrs.  Toney),  on  some  mining  property 
she  had  in  South  Park.  He  said  first  he  would  see 
if  he  could  get  it,  but  he  said  no  more  about  it. 
I  then  asked  Sherman  Parker,  the  secretary  of  the 
Altman  union,  about  it,  and  he  said  he  was  going 
to  Denver  in  a  short  time  to  get  some  money  from 
the  Federation  headquarters,  as  he  had  to  pay  some 
others  for  some  work  they  were  on.  He  said  he 
supposed  he  would  have  a  hard  time  to  make  them 
dig  up,  as  nothing  had  been  done.  He  spoke  of 
the  failure  they  had  made  in  blowing  up  the  pow- 
der plant  at  Colorado  Springs,  and  he  said  all  the 
attempts  they  had  made  to  pull  off  something  had 
failed,  and  luck  seemed  to  be  against  them.  He 
said  he  hated  to  ask  headquarters  for  more  money 
until  we  pulled  off  something.  He  said  if  we  could 
77 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

have  killed  that  fellow  we  shot  at  in  the  mine  we 
could  easily  have  gotten  all  the  money  we  wanted, 
so  I  said  nothing  more  at  that  time.  Parker  and 
Davis  talked  to  me  again  about  blowing  up  the  Vin- 
dicator or  the  Findley  mine,  and  wondered  if  we  could 
not  get  some  kind  of  a  trap  by  the  shaft,  so  when 
the  cage  came  down  with  the  "  scabs  "  it  would  set 
off  a  bomb.  But  I  thought  this  was  not  a  good  idea, 
for  if  the  cage  was  to  set  it  off,  they  might  run  the 
cage  down  empty — for  they  often  did  this — and  so 
we  would  not  get  anybody.  Parker  came  to  me  and 
told  me  he  would  give  me  $500  if  I  would  fix  some- 
thing in  either  mine  to  kill  some  of  them  so  as  to  scare 
the  rest  and  make  them  quit,  and  keep  our  men  from 
going  back  to  work,  and  scare  outside  men  from  com- 
ing in  there  to  work.  I  thought  this  looked  easy.  I 
knew  I  could  go  down  after  the  shift  went  off  at 
night  and  set  this,  if  they  did  not  have  guards  in 
the  mine. 

I  got  Easterly,  who  knew  all  about  these  things, 
and  we  went  up  in  an  old  vacant  building,  and  shot 
a  six-shooter  into  some  giant  caps  to  see  if  this 
would  set  them  off,  and  it  did.  So  we  conceived  the 
idea  of  fastening  a  six-shooter  on  the  timber  of  the 
shaft  at  the  station,  and  fastening  a  wire  to  the 
trigger  of  the  six-shooter  and  to  the  guard  rail, 
so  that  when  they  raised  the  guard  rail  it  would  pull 
78 


EXPLOSION    IN    THE    VINDICATOR  MINE 

the  trigger;  we  would  have  the  powder  under  this 
buried  in  the  dirt,  and  a  box  of  giant  caps  right 
close  to  the  muzzle  of  the  gun.  These  guard  rails 
are  always  raised  by  the  men  as  they  get  out  of  the 
cage,  and  then  lowered  again  to  prevent  any  one 
or  anything  from  falling  into  the  shaft.  Easterly 
did  not  go  with  me,  because  none  of  these  active 
labor  leaders  did  anything  themselves,  if  they  could 
help  it.  They  always  managed  to  be  in  some  con- 
spicuous place  when  anything  was  likely  to  happen. 
I  went  to  Schultz,  who  had  been  with  me  when 
we  started  to  blow  up  the  powder,  and  asked  him 
if  he  wanted  to  try  it  again.  He  said  no,  he  did  not 
care  to  take  another  chance  when  there  was  nothing 
in  it  if  it  failed,  and  besides  he  was  working  then 
for  some  leasers.  I  told  him  I  did  not  think  I  wanted 
anything  to  do  with  it  either.  I  said  this  so  he  would 
not  think  I  did  it  if  it  happened.  I  told  Parker  he 
did  not  want  to  go,  and  he  spoke  of  Billy  Aikman, 
and  said  he  was  not  afraid  of  a  little  blood  either. 
I  knew  this  man,  and  asked  him  if  he  wanted  to  help 
do  a  little  job,  and  he  said  yes,  he  did.  I  think  Parker 
had  spoken  to  him  in  the  mean  time.  So  I  went  and 
rustled  some  powder  from  Joe  Craig,  Mrs.  Toney's 
brother,  who  was  a  leaser,  and  he  thawed  it  out  for 
me.  I  thought  we  ought  to  have  a  man  to  stay  at 
the  mouth  of  the  shaft,  or  a  little  down  in  it,  while 
79 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

we  went  down  and  set  this.  So  I  got  Billy  Gaffney, 
and  also  got  some  more  powder  from  him,  and  we 
went  to  his  house,  which  was  not  far  from  the  shaft, 
and  got  everything  ready. 

When  the  shift  went  off,  about  2.30  in  the  morn- 
ing, we  took  about  fifty  pounds  of  dynamite,  and 
went  down  the  shaft  of  the  Vindicator  mine,  and 
across  in  a  drift  to  the  main  shaft  No.  1.  We  were 
on  the  fourth  level  then,  and  we  climbed  down  the 
main  shaft  to  the  sixth  level,  and  we  looked  around 
and  thought  this  was  the  seventh  level.  I  had  not 
worked  on  the  seventh  level  of  this  mine,  and  had 
been  off  there  only  a  time  or  so,  and  it  looked  to  me 
like  the  seventh  level.  We  hurried  to  set  this  as  I 
have  described,  and  I  used  my  own  six-shooter.  Then 
we  got  out  as  soon  as  we  could.  This  was  not  the 
same  way  we  usually  came  in,  but  Aikman  said  this 
was  the  best  way,  and  besides  we  thought  they  might 
be  guarding  our  former  passage  or  have  closed  it 
up,  as  it  came  from  another  property.  When  we 
came  to  the  surface,  we  could  not  find  our  watcher, 
and  we  suspicioned  there  was  something  wrong,  but 
we  could  not  hear  or  see  anything,  and  we  came  out 
unmolested.  We  found  Gaffney  later,  and  he  said 
he  got  to  coughing,  and  thought  he  had  better  leave. 
We  had  some  turpentine  which  we  poured  along  in 
our  tracks  after  we  started  away  from  the  mine, 
80 


EXPLOSION    IN    THE    VINDICATOR   MINE 

so  they  couldn't  follow  us  with  dogs,  and  got  home 
all  right. 

Davis  came  to  my  house  the  next  morning  before 
I  was  up  and  wanted  to  know  if  we  had  set  the  bomb. 
I  told  him  we  had,  and  he  said  there  was  no  excite- 
ment about  the  mine.  I  got  up  about  noon  and  went 
down  to  the  house  of  Billy  Aikman,  and  he  had  heard 
nothing,  so  we  thought  it  must  be  another  failure, 
and  we  watched  around  the  mine  to  see  if  we  could 
find  out  anything,  but  we  could  not  see  anything 
unusual,  nor  did  we  hear  anything  for  a  week. 

During  the  time  that  elapsed  between  our  setting 
the  bomb  and  the  explosion,  I  tried  again  to  get 
some  money  from  Davis  and  Parker,  and  the  latter 
told  me  he  was  going  to  Denver  in  a  day  or  two,  and 
he  would  try  to  get  some  from  the  Federation  head- 
quarters, but  he  also  told  me  they  were  trying  to 
pull  something  off,  and  if  it  came  off  it  would  be 
no  trouble  for  him  to  get  money.  He  told  me  they 
had  made  an  attempt  a  night  or  two  before  to  ditch 
the  Florence  and  Cripple  Creek  train  that  left  Mid- 
way for  Cripple  Creek  at  2.30  A.  M.  He  said  their 
tools  broke,  and  they  had  to  leave  the  job  partly 
finished,  and  that  H.  H.  McKinney,  one  of  the  men 
that  had  made  the  attempt,  had  walked  along  by 
the  place  that  day,  and  there  were  two  men  standing 
looking  at  what  they  had  done.  Parker  told  me  they 
81 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

were  going  to  work  at  a  different  place,  on  one  of 
the  high  banks  between  Victor  and  Cripple  Creek. 
This  early  morning  train  carried  the  night-shifts  of 
non-union  miners  that  lived  on  Cripple  Creek  and 
worked  on  Bull  Hill  to  and  from  their  work.  Most 
all  of  these  non-union  men  that  worked  there  then 
lived  in  Cripple  Creek  or  Victor,  because  it  was  safer 
there  for  them  than  anywhere  else. 

There  were  a  good  many  union  men  working  in 
the  Portland  mine.  The  reader  will  remember  that 
this  mine  was  not  affected  at  this  time  by  the  strike, 
and  there  were  five  or  six  hundred  men  working 
there,  and  all  supposed  to  be  union  men.  Some  thirty 
or  forty  of  these  union  men  that  were  working  on 
the  night-shift  lived  in  Cripple  Creek  and  rode  on 
this  night  train,  and  if  they  ditched  this  train  they 
would  be  likely  to  kill  the  union  men  also.  But  a 
few  days  before  they  were  going  to  ditch  this  train, 
they  made  arrangements  for  a  car  with  the  electric 
road,  and  the  union  miners  of  the  Portland  were 
supposed  to  ride  on  the  electric  car.  Whether  this 
arrangement  was  made  to  protect  them  and  keep 
them  off  the  steam  train  they  were  going  to  wreck, 
I  do  not  know,  as  none  of  them  ever  told  me  and  I 
never  asked  them,  but  I  supposed  that  was  what  it 
was  for. 

When  Parker  told  me  this,  we  were  in  the  union 

00 

c 


EXPLOSION  IN  THE  VINDICATOR  MINE 
hall  at  Victor.  He  told  me  how  they  intended  to 
work  the  job,  and  said  he  had  gotten  the  men  some 
good  tools  in  place  of  the  ones  they  had  broken, 
so  he  thought  it  would  be  a  go  all  right  this  time, 
and  he  said,  "  If  it  comes  off  to-night,  there  will 
be  martial  law  here  to-morrow." 

After  he  told  me  this,  I  felt  somewhat  jealous  and 
angry.  I  hate  to  write  this,  but  I  cannot  tell  any- 
thing but  the  truth,  and  I  must  not  try  to  favor 
myself.  Yes,  I  was  jealous  to  think  they  would  go 
and  get  some  one  else  to  do  an  easy  job  like  that, 
after  I  had  taken  such  chances  down  in  the  mine, 
and  right  under  the  very  noses  of  the  soldiers.  This 
looked  like  an  easy  thing  to  me  beside  what  they 
wanted  me  to  do,  and  I  was  angry  because,  after 
I  had  gone  through  all  the  worst  part  and  taken 
all  the  chances,  they  should  go  and  get  some  one 
else  to  do  an  easy  job  like  that,  and  would  not  give  me 
a  pleasant  look,  or  at  least  would  not  give  me  a  few 
dollars.  I  had  used  my  own  six-shooter  and  rustled 
fifty  pounds  of  powder,  and  they  knew  I  did  not  have 
a  cent.  I  felt  pretty  sore,  and  made  up  my  mind  right 
there  to  go  to  Cripple  Creek  and  notify  the  railroad 
authorities  and  block  their  game,  and  quit  the  out- 
fit and  expose  them.  I  also  meant  to  tell  them  about 
putting  that  trap  in  the  Vindicator  mine,  for  I  felt 
sure  they  had  found  it  by  that  time.  But  when  we 
83 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

started  to  go  home  from  Victor  that  night,  it  was 
snowing  pretty  hard,  and  Parker  said  they  would 
not  be  able  to  pull  that  off  to-night,  and  he  said,  "  It's 
more  hard  luck,  everything  seems  to  be  against  us." 
I  felt  sure  they  would  not  attempt  it,  as  they  could 
be  easily  tracked  in  the  snow,  and  so  I  did  not  go 
to  Cripple  Creek  that  night,  because  I  thought  the 
next  day  would  do  just  as  well. 

The  next  afternoon  I  went  to  Cripple  Creek.  I 
knew  one  of  the  conductors  on  that  road,  and  I 
talked  to  him  on  the  way  over  and  asked  him  who 
the  proper  authorities  would  be  to  go  to,  and,  in 
fact,  I  told  him  there  might  be  some  plot  to  wreck 
the  train.  He  said,  "  They  did  try  to  do  something 
last  night,  did  they  not?  "  And  I  said  I  did  not 
know  but  I  thought  not.  He  said  he  thought  they 
did,  but  he  told  me  to  go  to  D.  C.  Scott,  who  was 
their  secret-service  agent,  and  I  think  he  introduced 
me  to  Scott.  Scott's  office  was  over  the  depot  at 
Cripple  Creek. 

I  talked  with  Mr.  Scott  and  told  him  all  the  de- 
tails I  knew,  and  when  I  had  told  him  everything, 
he  said  he  believed  me.  He  said  he  was  one  of  the 
two  men  standing  by  the  rail  when  McKinney  went 
by,  and  he  also  told  me  that  McKinney  was  now 
under  arrest,  and  they  were  looking  for  his  partner. 
He  also  told  me  they  had  made  a  second  attempt  the 
84 


EXPLOSION    IN   THE    VINDICATOR   MINE 

night  before,  and  had  taken  the  outside  rail  clear 
out;  this  was  over  between  Elkton  and  Victor.  I 
was  surprised  at  this,  for  that  was  the  first  time 
I  knew  they  had  made  the  attempt,  as  I  thought  the 
snow  would  hinder  them;  but  they  figured  on  get- 
ting to  Victor,  and  they  could  not  track  them  in 
the  city,  as  the  snow  would  all  be  tracked  up  there. 
I  told  him  I  would  not  tell  him  how  I  knew  this, 
at  this  time,  at  least;  I  told  him  I  just  happened 
to  find  it  out  by  accident  through  a  friend  of  mine. 
He  thanked  me  and  wanted  me  to  come  over  and 
see  him  again,  and  I  told  him  I  would,  and  I  intended 
to  tell  them  more  and  quit  the  gang. 

I  will  have  to  say  that  this  was  not  from  any  re- 
morse of  conscience  I  had.  I  would  to  God  I  could 
say  it  was,  but  I  cannot,  for  I  had  no  conscience, 
or,  if  any,  it  was  seared  so  with  sin  it  would  not  act. 
No,  I  was  prompted  to  do  this  from  purely  a  selfish 
and  jealous  standpoint,  although  much  good  might 
have  come  out  of  it.  I  would  have  no  doubt  exposed 
those  two  men  as  soon  as  I  had  been  assured  of  pro- 
tection, if  it  had  not  been  for  the  following  incident : 

I  went  home  that  night  and  told  Mr.  Scott  I 
would  come  back  over  and  see  him  again  in  a  day 
or  so,  but  a  day  or  two  after,  I  think  about  noon, 
as  I  was  going  to  Victor,  I  heard  that  the  Vindica- 
tor mine  was  blown  up  and  a  lot  of  men  killed.  I 
85 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY   ORCHARD 

went  on  to  Victor,  and  in  a  little  while  word  came 
that  Charlie  McCormic  and  "Mel"  Beck,  the  su- 
perintendent and  shift  boss,  were  killed  and  the 
station  on  the  sixth  level  was  wrecked.  Then  we  soon 
figured  how  the  trap  had  been  there  for  so  long  and 
not  set  off.  I  have  before  told  you  we  intended  to 
put  this  on  the  seventh  level  and  thought  we  had 
until  now,  as  we  knew  they  were  not  working  above 
the  seventh  level,  but  we  made  the  mistake  and  got 
this  on  the  sixth  level  instead  of  the  seventh,  and  it 
happened  no  one  got  off  the  cage  on  this  particular 
level  during  the  time  since  we  had  set  this  bomb. 
But  it  seemed  the  superintendent  and  shift  boss  were 
going  in  on  the  sixth  level  to  see  about  starting  up 
some  work,  and  they  were  the  first  to  raise  the 
guard  rail,  and  both  got  killed  and  blown  to  pieces 
right  there. 

Now,  when  I  heard  this  I  was  very  sorry  that  I 
had  told  Scott  what  I  had,  for  I  thought  I  had  to 
stand  pat  then,  and  I  was  afraid  to  see  Scott  for 
fear  he  would  suspect  me  of  knowing  more  than  I 
told  him,  and  I  was  afraid  I  would  act  nervous  if 
he  sent  for  me,  which  I  felt  sure  he  would,  and  I  was 
nervous  at  first  when  I  heard  these  men  were  killed. 
I  had  no  thought  of  killing  them ;  I  thought  it  would 
kill  a  cage-load  of  non-union  men,  as  the  men  always 
went  down  first  going  on  shift.  I  knew  both  McCor- 


EXPLOSION    IN   THE    VINDICATOR   MINE 

mick  and  Beck,  and  they  were  good  fellows,  and 
good  men  to  work  for.  As  I  expected,  Mr.  Scott 
sent  me  a  letter  to  come  over  to  Cripple  Creek,  he 
wanted  to  see  me  right  away.  I  felt  nervous  and  was 
afraid  to  go  for  fear  he  would  notice  it.  This  was 
the  first  of  anything  like  that  I  had  been  mixed  up 
in,  and  I  was  afraid  it  would  haunt  me,  and  I  rather 
wished  I  had  not  done  it  at  first.  I  saw  them  when 
they  took  the  bodies  to  the  coroner.  But  I  saw  Davis 
and  Parker,  and  they  braced  me  up  and  said  it  was 
all  right. 


87 


CHAPTER   EIGHT 

MY    FIRST    VISIT    TO    HEADQUABTEUS 

THE  Vindicator  explosion  happened  on  a  Sat- 
urday, when  we  were  all  over  to  Victor.  Davis 
and  I  went  home,  and  I  intended  to  stay  there 
that  night.  But  after  supper  Davis  came  to  my 
house  and  wanted  me  to  go  over  to  Victor  with  him 
to  the  union  meeting.  Davis  was  on  the  strike  com- 
mittee, and  was  going  over  to  make  the  weekly  re- 
port the  committee  had  to  give  every  union  about 
how  the  strike  was  going.  I  told  him  I  had  better 
not  go,  and  that  it  would  be  better  for  me  not  to 
be  seen  with  him,  as  they  might  mistrust  me.  He 
said  there  was  no  good  of  being  afraid.  He  said  to 
look  at  Parker;  that  he  was  liable  to  be  lynched  for 
the  explosion.  And  that  was  right ;  I  knew  they  were 
talking  about  it.  Anyway,  I  got  ready,  and  we  went 
to  the  meeting.  After  the  meeting  Parker  and  Davis 
and  I  walked  home  together  as  far  as  the  lower  end 
of  Independence,  and  I  told  them  I  was  not  going 
to  be  seen  any  more  with  them.  I  told  Parker  and 
Davis  they  ought  to  give  me  some  money,  so  if  I  had 
88 


MY    FIRST    VISIT   TO   HEADQUARTERS 

to  hike  out  I  could.  I  told  them  they  were  likely  to 
be  arrested,  and  I  would  not  have  a  cent  if  I  wanted 
to  go  away.  Parker  told  me  he  would  give  me  some 
the  next  day.  He  said  it  would  be  no  trouble  to  get 
money  now  from  headquarters.  So  we  parted,  and  I 
went  up  through  Independence  and  on  home. 

On  Monday,  the  second  day  after,  D.  C.  Scott, 
the  railroad  detective,  sent  for  me  to  come  to  Crip- 
ple Creek,  and,  as  much  as  I  dreaded  going,  I 
thought  it  best  to  go  and  play  innocent  and  put  on 
a  bold  front.  So  I  braced  up  the  best  I  could  and 
went  over,  and  Scott  said  K.  C.  Sterling,  the  mine 
owners'  detective,  wanted  to  see  me.  Mr.  Sterling 
came  down  to  Scott's  office,  and  I  talked  to  him  an 
hour  or  so,  and  he  wanted  to  know  if  I  knew  any- 
thing about  the  Vindicator  explosion,  or  if  I  mis- 
trusted any  one.  I  told  him  I  did  not  know  a  thing 
about  it,  and  that  I  did  not  mistrust  any  one.  I  fur- 
ther said  that  I  thought  it  must  be  an  accident. 
Sterling  wanted  me  to  tell  him  who  told  me  about 
the  attempt  to  wreck  the  train,  but  I  told  him  I 
would  not. 

They  kept  sending  for  me  every  little  while  after 
the  Vindicator  explosion,  and  I  wished  many  times 
I  had  never  said  anything  to  them.  But  I  knew  I 
had  to  play  the  string  through  now,  and  I  always 
went  over  when  they  sent  for  me.  Mr.  Scott  had 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

given  me  $20  in  money,  and  wanted  me  to  go  to 
work  for  them  and  they  would  pay  me  $100  a  month. 
I  told  them  I  was  a  union  man  at  heart,  and  did  not 
like  to  double-cross  those  men,  and  I  did  not  believe 
they  were  responsible  for  this  Vindicator  outrage.  But 
I  said  I  would  tell  them  anything  of  importance  I 
found  out  on  the  quiet.  Of  course,  I  never  intended 
to  tell  them  the  truth. 

There  was  a  lot  of  wrangling  about  these  men 
they  had  arrested.  The  militia  held  some  of  them, 
and  some  were  in  the  county  jail.  Those  that  the 
militia  held  had  no  charges  placed  against  them, 
and  the  civil  courts  would  issue  writs  of  habeas  cor- 
pus, and  the  militia  would  take  them  into  court,  and 
when  they  were  released  would  hold  them;  but, 
finally,  they  were  all  released  but  six  of  them — 
Parker,  Davis,  and  Kennison,  the  members  of  the 
strike  committee,  and  Steve  Adams,  Foster,  and  Mc- 
Kinney. 

I  kept  pretty  quiet  all  this  time,  but  I  was  rather 
uneasy,  for  it  was  reported  that  McKinney  had  made 
a  confession  and  had  implicated  Parker  and  others, 
and,  in  fact,  Scott  told  me  he  had.  I  knew  McKin- 
ney, but  had  never  had  anything  to  do  with  him, 
but  I  was  afraid  Parker  might  have  told  him  who 
set  the  bomb  in  the  Vindicator.  I  had  tried  to  get 
into  jail  to  see  Parker  and  Davis,  but  the  sheriff 
90 


MY  FIRST  VISIT  TO  HEADQUARTERS 
would  not  let  me  in,  and  I  asked  Mr.  Scott  if  he 
would  arrange  for  me  to  get  in  and  see  the  boys. 
He  asked  me  what  I  wanted  to  see  them  for,  and  I 
told  him  I  just  wanted  to  say  hello  and  give  them 
a  bottle  of  whisky  and  some  cigars.  So  he  telephoned 
up  to  the  sheriff,  and  I  went  up,  and  he  let  me  in ; 
but  I  could  not  get  a  chance  to  ask  Parker  or  Davis 
anything  about  McKinney,  because  a  guard  was  with 
us  all  the  time. 

I  found  out  from  Scott  that  Easterly  had  been 
to  Denver  and  Pueblo,  and  that  Frank  Hangs,  one 
of  the  Federation  attorneys,  had  been  in  and  seen 
McKinney  and  got  him  to  make  a  statement.  They 
also  had  a  detective  in  to  see  him,  and  Scott  wanted 
me  to  go  to  Denver  with  him  and  see  Billy  Easterly, 
and  find  out,  if  I  could,  what  they  got  out  of  Mc- 
Kinney. This  just  suited  me,  as  I  thought  Easterly 
knew  Moyer  and  Haywood,  the  president  and  secre- 
tary of  the  Federation,  and  could  get  me  some  money 
from  them.  Mr.  Scott  got  me  transportation,  and 
gave  me  some  money  to  pay  my  expenses,  and  we 
went  to  Denver  the  next  afternoon.  We  were  not 
to  be  seen  together,  and  we  did  not  stop  at  the  same 
hotel. 

I  went  up  to  the  Federation  headquarters  the  next 
morning,   and   introduced   myself,   as   I   only   knew 
them  by  sight.  They  said  they  knew  me  by  reputa- 
91 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

tion,  as  Easterly  had  told  them  about  me.  I  asked 
tHem  where  Easterly  was,  and  they  told  me  he  was 
in  Pueblo,  but  would  be  back  in  a  day  or  two.  They 
wanted  me  to  wait  until  he  came  back,  and  told  me 
if  I  wanted  any  money  they  would  give  me  some.  I 
told  them  I  had  a  little,  and  Moyer  gave  me  $20. 
We  did  not  go  into  any  details  about  what  had  hap- 
pened in  Cripple  Creek,  but  only  spoke  of  it  in  a 
general  way  at  that  time. 

I  went  and  met  Mr.  Scott  over  at  his  hotel,  and 
reported  to  him  that  Easterly  was  in  Pueblo,  but 
they  expected  him  back  in  a  day  or  so,  and  he  said 
we  would  wait  for  him.  I  forgot  what  I  told  him 
they  said  to  me ;  I  made  up  something  and  told  him, 
and  I  cannot  remember  a  falsehood  like  I  can  the 
truth.  However,  Mr.  Scott  had  to  go  home  before 
Easterly  came  back,  and  he  wanted  me  to  stay  until 
he  came,  and  I  think  he  gave  me  some  more  money. 
In  all,  I  got  not  to  exceed  $40  from  Scott,  and  I 
never  got  any  money  at  all  from  Sterling. 

Easterly  came  in  a  day  or  two,  and  we  were  there 
a  few  days  longer  together,  and  Moyer,  Haywood, 
Easterly,  and  myself  discussed  the  strike  and  the 
chances  of  the  boys  who  were  in  jail.  Haywood  and 
Moyer  said  that  was  a  fine  job  we  did  at  the  Vin- 
dicator. Haywood  said  we  got  two  good  ones,  and 
they  were  the  kind  to  get,  and  said  a  few  like  them 


MY    FIRST   VISIT   TO   HEADQUARTERS 

and  we  would  have  everything  our  own  way.  He  said 
they  would  rather  have  one  of  the  bosses  than  a 
car-load  of  "  scabs,"  for  when  you  took  away  the 
cause  you  had  it  all.  They  wanted  me  to  stay  in 
Denver  a  few  days  and  enjoy  myself,  and  to  go  back 
and  tear  something  loose.  They  said  we  could  not 
get  too  fierce  to  suit  them,  and  Haywood  said  he 
would  like  to  have  some  of  the  tin  soldiers  made  an 
example  of,  as  none  of  them  had  been  hurt.  He  said 
we  could  get  all  the  money  we  wanted  if  we  would 
keep  up  the  night-work.  They  asked  me  how  much 
money  I  wanted,  and  said  not  to  take  too  much,  as 
I  could  get  more  any  time  I  needed  it.  I  told  them 
I  wanted  $300  when  I  went  home,  and  in  a  day  or 
so  afterward  Haywood  gave  me  the  $300,  and  I  went 
back.  He  told  me  to  be  careful  and  not  to  make  any 
show  of  the  money.  So  I  left  them  and  returned  to 
the  district. 

I  had  never  said  anything  to  the  men  that  went 
with  me  at  the  Vindicator  about  getting  any  money, 
or  at  least  any  amount.  I  think  I  told  Billy  Aikman, 
the  man  that  went  down  in  the  mine  with  me,  that 
we  would  make  them  put  up  a  piece  of  money  for 
the  job.  When  I  got  back  I  gave  him  $50,  and  in  a 
few  days  I  gave  him  $25  more,  and  in  all  I  think 
I  gave  him  $100  or  more.  I  did  not  tell  him  how 
much  I  got  or  where  I  got  it.  I  used  to  give  Billy 
93 


CONFESSIONS    OF   HARRY   ORCHARD 

Gaffney,  the  fellow  we  left  at  the  mouth  of  the  shaft, 
a  dollar  or  two  once  in  a  while.  I  was  afraid  to  give 
him  any  money  to  speak  of,  as  he  was  drunk  all  the 
time  when  he  had  the  price.  He  did  not  know  I  got 
any  money  at  all.  I  gave  most  of  this  money  to  my 
wife  to  keep. 

After  I  got  back  from  Denver  I  went  over  to 
Cripple  Creek  and  saw  Mr.  Scott,  and  told  him  I 
could  not  get  much  out  of  Easterly.  I  told  him 
Easterly  told  me  about  seeing  Mrs.  McKinney  at 
Pueblo,  and  some  other  stuff  I  made  up.  I  have  for- 
gotten just  what  I  did  tell  him,  but  I  did  not  tell 
him  the  truth,  and  after  that  he  did  not  bother  me 
much  more.  The  fact  was,  Easterly  was  sent  down 
to  see  McKinney  and  his  wife,  to  brace  him  up  and 
get  him  to  go  back  on  his  confession. 

I  did  not  try  to  do  anything  for  a  while.  Then, 
some  time  in  January,  I  got  some  roofing-pitch  and 
melted  it,  and  took  a  dozen  sticks  of  giant-powder, 
and  tied  them  up  in  some  burlap,  and  wound  them 
tight  with  twine,  and  put  them  in  a  bucket,  and  ran 
this  melted  pitch  around  it,  and  let  it  get  cold,  and 
hacked  it  up  a  little,  so  it  looked  like  a  chunk  of 
coal.  I  made  a  black-powder  fuse  and  filled  it  full 
of  giant-caps  and  bored  a  hole  into  the  powder,  and 
put  this  fuse  in  it  and  sealed  it  over  so  it  would  not 
be  noticed.  I  made  a  couple  of  these — Owney  Barnes 
94 


MY   FIRST   VISIT   TO   HEADQUARTERS 

helped  me  do  this — and  I  got  a  man  to  throw  one 
of  them  into  the  coal-bunkers  of  the  Vindicator  mine. 
This  was  an  old  man  named  Dempsey.  He  was  an 
old-timer,  and  the  soldiers  did  not  pay  any  attention 
to  him,  but  let  him  go  in  and  out  as  he  pleased.  But 
Billy  Aikman  said  he  was  all  right;  he  was  a  thor- 
oughbred; and  that  he  was  one  of  the  men  that 
shot  the  deputies  in  1894.  So  Billy  Aikman  gave  him 
one  of  these  bombs,  and  he  promised  to  throw  it  into 
the  coal-bunkers.  I  don't  know  personally  what  he  did 
do,  except  he  called  me  up  later  that  night  over  the 
telephone,  when  I  was  in  Aikman's  saloon,  and  said 
he  had  delivered  those  goods.  He  was  drunk  at  the 
time,  and  I  shut  him  off  quick  for  fear  he  would  get 
to  talking,  and  I  felt  sore  at  Aikman  for  getting 
that  sort  of  a  man  to  do  the  job. 

A  short  time  after  this  all  the  men  in  the  jail  were 
released  on  bail  of  from  $15,000  to  $20,000  each, 
and  we  dared  not  do  anything  then  on  their  account. 
I  should  say  all  but  McKinney ;  he  was  not  released 
then. 

Foster,  Parker,  and  Davis  went  on  trial  together. 
Davis  was  released  soon  after  the  opening  for  lack 
of  sufficient  evidence,  but  Parker's  and  Foster's  trials 
went  on  jointly.  Foster  was  charged  with  the  first 
attempt  to  wreck  the  train  near  Anaconda.  McKin- 
ney was  a  witness  against  them,  he  having  turned 
95 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

state's  evidence,  and  he  swore  that  he  and  Foster 
had  been  hired  by  Parker  to  wreck  the  train,  and 
they  had  made  the  attempt,  but  failed  on  account 
of  breaking  their  tools.  The  prosecution  had  these 
tools,  as  McKinney  and  his  wife  had  told  them  where 
they  had  been  thrown,  down  an  old  shaft  and  into 
an  outhouse  at  Foster's  home. 

The  defense  that  they  put  up  was  an  alibi.  I  don't 
know  how  many  people — I  think  a  dozen  or  so — 
swore  Foster  was  in  a  saloon  in  Altman  all  the  night 
in  question,  and  that  he  was  carried  home  drunk 
about  seven  or  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Now, 
there  is  no  doubt  Foster  was  drunk  this  morning 
we  speak  of,  and  some  of  his  friends  had  to  help 
him  home  from  this  saloon;  but  there  is  no  doubt, 
either,  that  he  wasn't  in  the  saloon  all  night,  but 
came  in  there  after  they  had  tried  to  wreck  the  train, 
and  they  made  up  a  fake  alibi  for  him.  I  know  this 
because  I  helped  to  make  it.  While  I  was  not  a  wit- 
ness myself,  I  helped  to  get  the  witnesses,  and  we 
would  take  them  up  to  Frank  Hangs's  office  in  Crip- 
ple Creek.  He  and  Mr.  Hawkins  were  Parker's  and 
Foster's  attorneys.  These  witnesses  were  told  what 
they  were  wanted  to  swear  to  before  we  took  them 
up  there,  and  Mr.  Hangs  and  Mr.  Hawkins  went 
over  their  testimony.  There  were  women  that  were 
told  what  to  swear  to. 

96 


MY    FIRST    VISIT   TO   HEADQUARTERS 

That  alibi  was  made  out  of  whole  cloth,  and  they 
made  it  stick,  as  they  usually  have  for  twelve  or  fif- 
teen years.  I  was  to  be  a  witness  once  in  a  case 
of  this  kind,  but  I  didn't  have  to,  because  the  case 
was  dismissed  against  the  man.  I  have  often  heard 
the  union  leaders  laugh  and  tell  how  easy  it  was  to 
get  out  of  such  things,  and,  as  the  judges  in  these 
camps  are  usually  elected  by  the  miners,  they  favor 
them  all  they  can,  and  it  is  seldom  that  a  man 
charged  with  an  offense  connected  with  the  union — 
such  as  beating  up  a  man  or  even  murder — is  ever 
convicted.  I  have  often  talked  with  Haywood  about 
these  things,  and  he  has  told  me  the  more  they  ar- 
rested the  union  leaders — as  long  as  they  could  clear 
them  in  the  courts — the  better  it  suited  them,  as 
this  would  make  the  public  and  the  rank  and  file  of 
the  unions  believe  it  was  persecution.  And  the  system 
was  to  get  men  to  swear  to  whatever  best  fitted  the 
case. 

Now,  after  they  had  failed  to  wreck  the  train 
and  Foster  got  drunk,  McKinney  reported  this  to 
Parker,  and  Parker  suggested  another  man  to  help 
him,  or  McKinney  did — I  have  forgotten  which. 
Anyway,  this  was  a  man  called  Beckman,  who  was 
really  a  detective  in  the  employ  of  the  mine  opera- 
tors, and  he  had  been  in  the  "  bull-pen  "  with  Parker, 
McKinney,  and  others  when  they  were  first  thrown 
97 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

in  there.  This  man  Beckman  was  a  German,  and 
had  joined  the  Federation  at  Murray,  Utah,  and  had 
his  card,  and  after  coming  to  Cripple  Creek  he  went 
into  the  Victor  union.  Parker  called  him  a  fool 
Dutchman,  but  he  had  the  wool  pulled  over  their 
eyes  all  right,  and  they  thought  he  was  an  anarchist. 
I  guess  he  proposed  some  of  these  outrages  to  them ; 
anyway,  he  got  into  their  confidence,  and  his  wife 
belonged  to  the  ladies'  auxiliary.  So  McKinney  and 
Beckman  made  it  up  to  make  the  second  attempt, 
and  I  know  Parker  got  McKinney  a  spike-puller  and 
wrench,  because  he  told  me  so  after  the  trial. 

McKinney  told  his  story  at  the  trial,  and  Beck- 
man told  all  his  connection  with  the  thing,  and 
also  some  things  Parker  had  told  him  and  sug- 
gested to  him,  and  also  of  Parker's  giving  him 
money  to  leave  the  district  just  after  this,  and  prom- 
ising him  more.  But  McKinney  had  sworn  to  two 
statements,  the  one  just  the  opposite  to  the  other. 
When  he  was  first  arrested,  they  took  him  to  Canon 
City  and  kept  him  at  the  penitentiary  awhile,  and 
then  took  him  to  Pueblo  and  kept  him  in  jail  there. 
During  this  time  they  did  not  let  any  one  see  him, 
and  he  made  a  confession  to  Scott  and  Sterling,  and 
told  them  all,  and  connected  Parker,  Foster,  and 
Beckman.  But  afterward  Frank  Hangs  and  a  de- 
tective in  the  employ  of  James  Burns,  manager  of 
98 


MY    FIRST   VISIT   TO   HEADQUARTERS 

the  Portland  mine,  got  into  jail  to  see  McKinney, 
and  induced  him  to  deny  what  he  had  told  Scott  and 
Sterling,  and  Hangs  dictated  another  statement  re- 
futing the  former  confession,  and  he  swore  to  that 
also.  The  reason  they  took  Mr.  Burns's  detective  in 
was  that  Mr.  Burns  had  the  only  big  mine  that  was 
open  to  union  men,  and  the  Federation  leaders  had 
to  convince  Mr.  Burns  that  McKinney  was  lying 
and  that  the  union  did  not  try  to  wreck  the  train. 
When  the  trials  came  up,  McKinney  swore  on  the 
witness-stand  that  his  first  confession  was  right,  and 
that  the  statement  Hangs  had  dictated  and  he  had 
sworn  to  was  false. 

But  I  have  told  you  the  methods  used,  and  that 
both  men  and  women  swore  that  black  was  white 
and  white  was  black,  and  the  lawyers  for  the  defense 
made  it  seem  plain  that  it  was  a  detective's  job  from 
start  to  finish*.  They  killed  McKinney's  evidence  to 
a  certain  extent  by  his  having  sworn  to  two  state- 
ments, and  they  brought  such  strong  evidence  that 
Foster  had  not  been  connected  with  the  first  attempt, 
and  the  last  one  looked  so  much  like  a  detective's 
job,  that  the  jury  was  out  only  about  twenty  min- 
utes, and  brought  in  a  verdict  of  not  guilty,  and  all 
the  men  that  had  charges  against  them  were  dis- 
missed. 

I  used  to  go  in  every  day  and  listen  to  this  trial, 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

and  Mr.  Moyer  was  there,  too,  and  I  got  to  know 
him  a  good  deal  better,  and  I  learned  more  about 
the  way  he  felt  about  the  strike.  Now,  there  are  a 
great  many  people  who  will  claim  that  Moyer  and 
Hay  wood  just  started  this  strike  so  they  could  get 
to  handle  a  lot  of  money  and  take  out  some  of  it 
for  themselves,  and  that  they  stirred  up  all  this 
trouble  to  do  that.  But  I  do  not  think  so  myself.  I 
know  that  both  Moyer  and  Haywood  were  talking 
to  the  rank  and  file  of  the  union  to  be  quiet  and  not 
commit  any  outrages  when  the  strike  began,  and  I 
know  Haywood  was  mad  at  that  time  because  Ed 
Minster  and  "  Slim  "  Campbell  got  loose  and  beat 
up  Hawkins  and  Stewart,  and  gave  the  mine  owners 
a  chance  to  call  in  the  militia.  And  it  is  only  reason- 
able to  believe  this,  because  the  mine  owners  wanted 
to  get  in  the  militia.  They  couldn't  get  non-union 
men  to  come  in  and  work  for  them  any  other  way, 
for  if  the  militia  did  not  come  in,  all  the  union  men 
had  to  do  was  to  sit  there  and  wait,  because  not 
many  of  the  non-union  men  would  dare  to  go  to 
work  in  the  mines  while  they  were  there — for  it  was 
known  all  over  the  United  States  what  the  unions 
would  do  to  "  scabs  "  in  these  mining-camps.  But 
after  the  militia  came  in  the  non-union  men  got  to 
work,  and  then  the  only  way  to  get  them  out  of 
the  district  was  to  commit  secret  outrages;  and  as 
100 


MY    FIRST   VISIT   TO   HEADQUARTERS 

time  went  on  and  the  strike  kept  going  against  them, 
they  kept  growing  stronger  and  stronger,  until  they 
didn't  care  whom  they  killed. 

Mr.  Moyer  was  a  good  deal  worried  during  the 
McKinney  trial,  and  particularly  once  when  Mc- 
Kinney  was  giving  his  testimony,  and  told  about 
Parker  telling  him  about  a  fluid  that  would  burn 
like  fire  when  thrown  upon  or  against  anybody  or 
anything.  Mr.  Moyer  said  he  expected  every  minute 
to  hear  his  name  brought  into  it  then,  but  for  some 
reason  the  lawyers  for  the  prosecution  did  not  ask 
McKinney  anything  about  this ;  and,  of  course,  we 
told  our  lawyers  not  to  ask  anything,  and  it  was 
only  referred  to  slightly  in  the  direct  examination. 
But  Moyer  was  very  much  provoked  at  Parker  for 
talking  and  telling  so  much  to  people  he  did  not 
know,  and  said  he  did  not  know  but  we  ought  to 
put  him  out  of  the  way.  I  had  asked  Parker  before 
if  he  had  told  McKinney  anything  about  my  being 
connected  with  the  Vindicator  explosion.  He  said  he 
had  not,  and  I  was  pretty  sure  he  had  not,  as  Scott 
and  Sterling  had  told  me  before  they  knew  nothing 
about  who  caused  it. 

Now,  I  did  not  want  to  do  any  of  this  busi- 
ness with  Davis  and  Parker,  myself,  after  this.  And 
I  knew,  besides,  that  they  used  to  hire  men  to  com- 
mit these  outrages,  and  keep  about  half  the  money 
101 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

they  collected  from  headquarters  and  not  give  it 
over  to  the  men  that  did  the  job.  Steve  Adams  has 
told  me  since  they  did  this  with  him.  So  I  told  Mr. 
Moyer  that  whatever  I  did  after  this  would  be  with 
him  and  Haywood,  and  he  said  he  would  not  have 
anything  more  to  do  with  Parker  in  that  line  himself. 
So  after  that  I  did  business  with  headquarters  direct. 
Moyer  had  given  me  $150  while  he  was  at  Cripple 
Creek. 

Some  little  time  before  this  trial  there  had  been 
a  convention  called  to  meet  in  Denver  by  the  State 
Federation  of  Labor.  They  sent  out  a  call  to  every 
branch  of  the  labor-unions.  The  real  object  of  this 
was  a  political  move,  although  it  was  not  so  stated 
at  the  time.  I  was  elected  one  of  the  delegates  from 
the  Altman  union  to  this  convention,  and  I  think 
nearly  every  branch  of  labor  in  the  State  was  repre- 
sented. We  met  in  Denver  and  talked  over  our  griev- 
ances, especially  those  of  the  Western  Federation 
of  Miners  and  the  United  Mine  Workers,  the  latter 
being  coal-miners,  who  were  also  on  strike.  The  two 
miners'  organizations  were  by  far  the  largest,  and 
they  reminded  the  other  organizations  very  forcibly 
that  it  was  their  interest  to  support  the  miners.  But 
the  real  object  of  the  convention  was  to  raise  money 
for  a  campaign  fund,  and  to  support  the  strikers, 
and  form  organizations  all  over  the  State  to  take 
102 


MY    FIRST    VISIT   TO   HEADQUARTERS 

in  every  branch  of  labor,  and  levy  assessments  on 
the  members,  so  much  a  week  or  month,  and  get 
so  well  organized  that  we  would  be  strong  enough 
to  say  to  one  of  the  political  parties,  "  If  you  don't 
recognize  us  and  let  us  name  the  head  of  the  ticket, 
we  will  run  an  independent  ticket." 

I  was  elected  on  the  Ways  and  Means  Committee, 
and  there  were  men  chosen  to  organize  these  clubs 
in  every  town  and  district  in  the  State.  We  were 
requested  to  attend  a  meeting  one  night  during  this 
convention  over  at  Western  Federation  headquar- 
ters. Mostly  all  that  were  there  were  Western  Fed- 
eration men,  I  think  about  twenty.  It  was  discussed 
there  which  would  be  the  best  policy,  to  try  to  unite 
with  one  of  the  old  political  parties  or  run  an  inde- 
pendent ticket.  The  Repubh'can  Party  seemed  im- 
possible and  the  Democratic  was  the  only  possible 
party.  Some  thought  the  latter  would  give  us  recog- 
nition if  we  got  well  organized,  and  others  thought 
we  could  elect  an  independent  labor  ticket.  Mr.  Hay- 
wood  said  he  did  not  think  it  would  be  advisable  to 
run  an  independent  ticket,  but  that  it  would  be  bet- 
ter to  fuse  with  the  Democratic  Party.  John  M. 
O'Neill,  the  editor  of  the  Miners'  Magazine,  thought 
the  same,  and  said  if  we  ran  an  independent  ticket  it 
would  be  sure  to  elect  Governor  Peabody  again.  Mr. 
Moyer  said  if  we  did  not  run  an  independent  ticket 
103 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

he  would  vote  the  Socialist  ticket,  as  he  did  not  be- 
lieve there  was  much  difference  between  the  Demo- 
cratic and  Republican  parties,  as  they  were  both 
against  organized  labor.  But  there  was  not  any  talk 
to  speak  of  for  the  support  of  the  Socialist  ticket. 
The  meeting  was  pretty  evenly  divided  when  a  vote 
was  taken,  and  we  thought  the  best  thing  to  do  was 
to  go  ahead  and  get  organized,  and  not  let  it  be 
known  at  present  that  this  was  purely  a  political 
move,  or  at  least  not  give  it  out  in  the  convention 
this  way,  as  many  would  object  to  the  assessment 
if  they  knew  it  was  going  to  be  used  for  a  political 
purpose.  The  convention  broke  up  harmonious,  and 
all  these  committees  went  to  work,  and  most  of  the 
unions  levied  an  assessment  on  their  members  of  from 
twenty-five  cents  to  a  dollar  a  month. 

After  the  meeting  we  had  at  the  Western  Federa- 
tion headquarters,  during  this  convention,  I  met 
George  A.  Pettibone.  This  was  the  first  time  I  had 
met  him  to  know  him,  although  I  knew  of  him.  I 
talked  freely  to  him  and  he  did  to  me,  and  he  told 
me  about  the  Grecian  fire  Moyer  told  me  about,  and 
some  other  things,  and  wanted  me  to  come  over  to 
his  store  the  next  day,  and  said  he  would  show  me 
something  that  would  beat  a  revolver  for  setting 
off  a  bomb.  Moyer  said  yes,  I  had  better  go  over 
and  see  the  "  devil,"  as  he  called  him.  He  used  to  call 
104 


MY    FIRST    VISIT   TO   HEADQUARTERS 

Pettibone  this  because  he  was  always  making  ex- 
periments with  chemicals,  and  Moyer  said  he  was 
never  so  happy  as  when  he  was  doing  something  of 
that  kind. 

So  I  went  over,  and  Pettibone  showed  me  how  to 
mix  chloride  of  potash  and  sugar  together,  and  set 
it  on  fire  with  sulphuric  acid,  and  this  would  set 
off  giant-caps.  He  also  told  me  about  this  "  hell- 
fire,"  as  he  called  it.  This  is  made  up  of  the  follow- 
ing mixture :  Stick  phosphorus,  bisulphid  of  carbon, 
benzine,  alcohol,  and  spirits  of  turpentine.  After 
this  is  mixed  together  properly,  when  thrown  on 
anything  with  force  so  as  to  break  the  bottle,  it 
will  immediately  be  a  flame  of  fire.  I  don't  think 
they  knew  about  this  very  long  before  this  time,  and 
Haywood  told  me  they  got  the  receipt  out  of  a  little 
book  he  had  that  was  gotten  out  by  an  Irish  chemist 
who  was  an  anarchist.  You  can  mix  this  so  that  it 
will  be  a  longer  or  shorter  time  in  taking  fire. 

This  "  hell-fire  "  has  to  be  handled  with  care  when 
being  mixed.  If  it  gets  on  your  clothes  or  hands 
it  will  burn,  and  it  seems  to  go  right  through  cloth. 
Pettibone  told  me  about  getting  it  on  his  shoes,  and 
when  he  began  to  scrub  them  on  the  floor  of  his 
cellar  it  started  to  burn  all  over.  He  told  about  how 
Marion  Moor,  who  was  on  the  executive  board,  went 
out  on  the  prairie  with  him  to  learn  how  to  mix  it, 
105 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

and  got  some  of  it  on  his  coat.  They  soaked  the 
coat  in  water  and  thought  that  would  put  it  out, 
but  when  it  got  dry  a  little  it  began  to  burn  again, 
and  they  had  to  soak  it  in  water  again,  and  even  then 
it  began  to  smoke  before  they  got  it  home. 

Mr.  Moyer  told  me  while  I  was  in  Denver  this 
time  that  things  had  been  pretty  quiet  for  a  while, 
and  that  we  had  got  to  get  busy  up  in  the  district 
and  tear  something  loose,  as  there  was  no  money 
coming  in  to  the  Federation.  I  asked  him  if  that 
made  any  difference,  and  he  said  it  did,  and  that 
as  soon  as  things  got  quiet  up  there  the  money  be- 
gan to  drop  off,  and  as  soon  as  something  was  pulled 
off  so  they  got  some  advertising,  the  money  picked 
up  again.  And  he  said  they  had  to  have  money  to 
carry  on  the  strike.  I  have  thought  that  many  of 
these  horrible  depredations  were  committed  for  that 
purpose,  as  well  as  to  terrorize  the  mine  owners  and 
non-union  men  and  make  them  afraid  of  their  lives. 
I  do  not  mean  that  Moyer  and  Haywood  figured 
this  out  before  the  strike,  but  that  it  grew  on  them 
and  they  found  it  out  while  the  strike  was  going  on. 

They  wanted  me  to  take  a  lot  of  this  "  hell-fire  " 
up  to  the  Cripple  Creek  district  with  me,  and  throw 
it  through  the  car-windows  at  night  when  they  were 
full  of  non-union  men,  and  throw  it  down  the  shafts 
and  set  them  on  fire.  So  Pettibone  got  me  enough 
106 


MY    FIRST    VISIT   TO   HEADQUARTERS 

material  to  mix  several  gallons  of  it,  and  I  took  it 
home  with  me.  He  would  not  buy  this  all  together, 
but  sent  different  men  to  buy  it,  for  fear  the  people 
would  mistrust  and  wonder  what  he  was  going  to 
do  with  it,  as  a  chemist  would  be  likely  to  know  what 
this  would  do  when  mixed.  You  have  to  have  bottles 
with  glass  stoppers  to  keep  it  in,  as  it  would  burn 
cork.  I  took  this  home  with  me,  and  Pettibone  came 
up  in  a  day  or  so  to  show  me  how  to  mix  it.  We  did 
not  mix  any,  but  he  told  me  how,  and  we  hunted  up 
Steve  Adams,  and  he  said  he  knew  how  to  mix  it. 
I  took  the  materials  out  and  buried  them  back  of  my 
house,  as  they  smelled  very  bad  in  the  house. 

Haywood  gave  me  $110  this  time  when  I  came  away 
from  Denver.  I  gave  Billy  Aikman  $50  of  this.  But 
before  I  used  any  of  this  "  hell-fire,"  Moyer  came 
up  to  the  district  and  told  me  I  had  better  not 
use  any  of  it,  as  they  might  have  an  idea  where  it 
came  from  and  what  it  was  by  what  McKinney  had 
said,  and  so  I  did  not  try  to  use  it. 

I  went  to  work  and  appointed  committees  in  my 
part  of  the  district,  and  started  to  organize  these 
labor  political  clubs,  and  we  got  them  pretty  well 
organized.  About  this  time,  or  a  little  before,  the 
militia  got  busy  and  issued  an  order  for  every  one 
that  had  firearms  to  turn  them  over  to  the  militia 
officers,  and  they  would  give  a  receipt  for  the  same 
107 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

and  return  them  after  the  strike  was  over.  I  don't 
know  how  many  were  turned  over.  They  published 
in  the  papers  that  there  was  a  great  number,  but 
I  think  this  was  only  a  bluff.  I  never  heard  of  any 
one  that  gave  up  his  firearms,  but  they  began  to 
search  houses  again  for  them,  and  this  made  people 
very  indignant. 

There  were  a  good  many  of  the  old  miners  in  the 
district  then,  and  we  all  were  feeling  pretty  ugly. 
After  the  union  miners  had  been  deported  from  Tel- 
luride  we  organized  in  Cripple  Creek,  and  especially 
on  Bull  Hill,  and  planned  so  we  wouldn't  be  taken 
by  surprise.  We  were  going  to  blow  a  whistle  on 
one  of  the  mines  for  a  signal,  so  we  would  not  be 
taken  by  surprise.  We  were  well  armed,  and  the 
unions  had  quite  a  number  of  rifles  shipped  in.  The 
Altman  union  got  about  forty  rifles  up  from  the 
Telluride  union  at  the  beginning  of  the  strike,  and 
a  lot  more  from  Denver.  In  all  there  must  have  been 
not  less  than  a  hundred  of  these  anyway,  mostly 
thirty-thirty  and  thirty-forty  Winchesters.  They 
distributed  these  arms  among  the  men  who  didn't 
have  any  of  their  own.  I  know  I  got  a  rifle  and  a 
six-shooter.  And  there  was  a  password,  where  you 
would  say  "  Gold,"  and  the  answer  would  be  "  Field." 
And  if  they  had  tried  to  run  the  union  men  out  at 
that  time,  there  would  have  been  more  trouble  than 
108 


MY    FIRST    VISIT   TO   HEADQUARTERS 

there  was  when  they  did  run  them  out.  This  was  not 
until  some  months  after,  and  at  a  time  when  most 
of  the  union  leaders  were  out  of  the  district  attend- 
ing the  Federation  convention  at  Denver. 

Mojer  was  in  Victor  about  this  time,  and  the 
militia  made  an  attempt  to  arrest  him,  but  he  was 
secreted  away  at  night.  I  did  not  attempt  to  do  any- 
thing, as  I  did  not  want  anything  to  do  with  Parker, 
and  he  said  if  we  did  anything  and  did  not  tell  him 
there  would  be  trouble. 


109 


CHAPTER    NINE 

HOW    WE    TRIED    TO    ASSASSINATE    GOVERNOR    PEABODY 

ABOUT  this  time  a  mob  and  the  militia  ran 
some  more  of  the  union  men  out  of  Telluride, 
Col.,  in  the  night,  and  forbade  them  to  re- 
turn on  pain  of  death.  Moyer  sent  for  me  to  come 
to  Denver,  so  I  got  ready  and  went.  I  met  Moyer, 
Haywood,  and  Pettibone  at  Federation  headquar- 
ters, and  they  wanted  me  to  go  down  to  the  San 
Juan  district  with  Moyer.  They  had  two  pump 
shot-guns,  sawed  off  so  they  would  go  in  our  grips 
when  they  were  taken  down,  and  plenty  of  shells 
loaded  with  buck-shot.  The  reason  for  this  was  some 
one  had  told  Moyer  or  sent  him  word  if  they  caught 
him  they  would  use  him  as  they  had  the  United 
Mine  Workers'  officers.  Some  of  the  latter  had  been 
taken  off  a  train  and  beaten  up  and  nearly  killed. 
They  laid  this  to  the  deputies  the  mine  operators 
had  employed. 

The  next  night  Moyer  and  I  started  for  Mon- 
trose,  where  they  had  sent  John  Murphy,  the  Fed- 
eration attorney,  to  get  an  injunction  from  Judge 
110 


WE    TRIED    TO    ASSASSINATE    PEABODY 

Stevens  against  the  militia  and  citizens  of  Telluride 
to  compel  them  to  let  the  union  miners  return  to 
their  homes  peaceably  and  not  to  interfere  with 
them.  We  had  three  six-shooters,  and  two  shot-guns 
in  our  grips,  which  we  left  unfastened  in  the  seats 
in  front  of  us,  and  we  sat  near  the  middle  of  the 
car ;  but  no  one  troubled  us.  We  arrived  at  Montrose 
and  met  Mr.  Murphy,  and  he  had  the  injunction 
all  ready.  We  went  on  to  Ouray,  where  most  of  the 
men  were  that  had  been  deported,  and  the  next  day 
Moyer  sent  a  telegram  to  Governor  Peabody  in- 
forming him  of  the  injunction,  and  wanted  to  know 
if  these  men  would  have  the  protection  of  the  militia 
if  they  returned  peaceably  to  their  homes,  and  he 
got  an  answer  that  all  law-abiding  citizens  would 
be  protected.  Moyer  said  when  he  sent  his  telegram 
to  the  governor,  that  he  had  promised  himself  that 
he  would  never  ask  him  for  anything  again,  and  he 
hated  to  do  it,  but  this  would  be  the  last  time.  Moyer 
sent  a  few  men  back  on  the  train  the  next  morning, 
but  they  were  met  at  a  station  some  distance  from 
Telluride,  and  forced  off  the  train  by  militia  and 
armed  men,  and  threatened  with  death  if  they  at- 
tempted to  come  into  town.  Sherman  Bell,  the  ad- 
jutant-general, had  arrived  in  Telluride,  and  martial 
law  was  declared,  and  Bell  disregarded  the  order  of 
the  court  in  regard  to  the  injunction. 
Ill 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

After  these  men  were  sent  back  from  Telluride, 
Mr.  Moyer  was  angrier  than  ever,  and  he  began  to 
advise  the  men  that  they  could  not  expect  any  pro- 
tection from  the  State,  and  the  only  way  was  to  take 
the  law  in  their  own  hands,  and  go  back  to  Telluride 
in  a  body  and  clean  out  the  town.  There  were  some 
methods  discussed  as  to  the  best  way  to  proceed. 
The  first  thing  that  we  thought  necessary  was  to 
get  concentrated  at  the  most  convenient  place,  and 
get  what  arms  and  ammunition  and  other  material 
we  would  need.  We  also  spoke  of  filling  beer-kegs 
with  dynamite,  and  attaching  a  time-fuse,  and  roll- 
ing them  down  the  mountainside  into  Telluride,  as 
the  town  was  in  a  canon  with  high  mountains  on 
either  side.  Another  plan  spoken  of  by  Mbyer  was 
to  poison  the  reservoir  where  they  got  their  water 
for  Telluride  with  cyanide  of  potassium.  This  is 
easy  to  get  around  the  mills  where  they  use  the 
cyanide  process,  and  of  course  it  is  deadly  poison 
and  kills  any  one  taking  the  least  particle  of  it  in- 
stantly. But  Moyer  only  started  to  carry  out  the 
first  of  these  plans  when  he  was  arrested. 

After  Bell  disregarded  the  injunction,  Moyer  sent 
over  to  Silverton,  which  is  thirty  miles  from  Ouray, 
for  Frank  Schmelzer,  the  president  of  the  San  Juan 
district  union.  He  wanted  to  confer  with  him  about 
what  to  do  with  these  men  who  were  deported,  as 
112 


WE    TRIED    TO    ASSASSINATE    PEABODY 

there  were  about  a  hundred  of  them  stopping  at 
the  hotel  at  Ouray,  and  paying  about  $1  a  day 
there,  and  he  said  the  Federation  could  not  afford 
that.  Mr.  Schmelzer  came  over  the  next  day,  and 
they  talked  the  situation  over.  There  were  some  more 
of  these  deported  men  over  at  Silverton.  The  final 
outcome  of  the  conference  was  that  they  decided  to 
lease  one  or  more  of  the  idle  mines  up  at  Red  Moun- 
tain. This  is  about  half-way  between  Ouray  and  Sil- 
verton on  the  divide,  and  not  far  from  Telluride, 
I  think  less  than  twenty  miles.  Another  man  came 
down  from  Red  Mountain  with  Schmelzer;  his  name 
was  Tom  Taylor.  He  had  a  partner  at  Red  Moun- 
tain, and  he  said  there  were  some  large  boarding- 
and  lodging-houses  there,  and  he  thought  there 
would  be  no  trouble  in  renting  them,  as  almost  every- 
thing was  silver  mines  around  there  and  they  were 
closed  down  on  account  of  the  low  price  of  silver. 
The  object  of  getting  this  out-of-the-way  place  was 
to  have  some  place  to  concentrate  the  men  and  keep 
them  together,  and  this  place  was  just  where  they 
wanted  them,  and  the  lease  was  all  a  bluff.  The  real 
object  was  to  send  these  men  up  there  and  arm  them 
all,  get  a  car  or  two  of  provisions,  and  send  all  the 
outlaws  they  could  get  hold  of  up  there,  too. 

They  were  going  to  try  to  get  Vincent  St.  John 
to  go  up  there  and  drill  these  men  and  be  their 
113 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

leader,  as  they  all  knew  him,  and  it  was  said  they 
would  do  anything  he  told  them  or  follow  him  any 
place.  These  men  were  mostly  all  foreigners — Aus- 
trians,  Finns,  and  Italians.  They  thought  if  they 
could  get  enough  men  up  here  in  this  out-of-the- 
way  place,  and  have  them  well  armed,  and  keep  them 
there  until  the  snow  got  settled  in  the  spring  so 
they  could  walk  on  it,  some  night  they  could  march 
them  over  the  hill  to  Telluride  and  clean  out  the 
town.  This  was  the  plan,  but  it  was  not  told  except 
to  a  very  few,  and  they  were  well  satisfied  with  it. 
If  we  had  had  another  day  these  arrangements  would 
have  been  finished,  and  perhaps  we  would  have  been 
away  from  there. 

But  the  morning  that  we  might  have  finished  up 
and  left  later  in  the  day,  before  we  got  up,  the 
sheriff  rapped  at  the  door  and  wanted  to  see  Moyer. 
I  was  sleeping  with  Moyer,  and  we  got  up  and 
dressed,  and  when  we  went  out  the  sheriff  arrested 
him.  He  said  they  had  wired  him  from  Telluride  to 
hold  Moyer,  and  that  the  sheriff  from  San  Miguel 
County  was  on  his  way  with  a  warrant.  Moyer  wired 
his  attorneys  at  Denver  and  wanted  to  know  if  the 
sheriff  at  Ouray  had  any  right  to  hold  him  without 
a  warrant.  I  think  they  told  him  he  had;  anyway, 
he  did  hold  him,  and  about  noon  the  sheriff  and 
two  deputies  arrived  and  took  him  to  Telluride. 


WE  TRIED  TO  ASSASSINATE  PEABODY 
Moyer  had  given  me  some  papers  and  his  six-shooter 
before  the  sheriff  from  Telluride  arrived,  and  ths 
Ouray  sheriff  did  not  search  him  or  lock  him  up, 
but  let  him  stay  in  his  office.  The  charge  they  ar~ 
rested  him  on  was  desecration  of  the  American  flag. 
The  Federation  had  sent  out  by  the  thousands 
posters  imitating  the  American  flag,  with  advertis- 
ing on  them.  They  only  arrested  Moyer  on  this  as 
an  excuse.  They  took  him  to  Telluride,  and  he  was 
released  on  bail,  but  the  militia  rearrested  him  right 
away. 

I  left  Ouray  that  night  and  went  to  Silverton  with 
Schmelzer  to  escape  arrest,  and  Moyer  telephoned 
me  from  Telluride  in  a  day  or  so,  and  wanted  me  to 
fetch  his  things  and  meet  him  at  Durango,  but  be- 
fore we  got  through  talking  they  cut  us  off.  He  was 
telephoning  me  just  after  he  was  let  out  on  bonds, 
and  while  he  was  talking  they  cut  off  the  connection, 
and  the  militia  arrested  him  right  afterward  and 
held  him  for  over  three  months.  That  was  the  last 
I  saw  of  him  for  nearly  a  year. 

I  stayed  at  Silverton  a  few  days,  and  then  went 
back  to  Denver  and  reported  to  Haywood.  The 
lawyers  from  Denver  had  gone  to  Telluride  in  the 
mean  time,  but  they  could  not  get  Moyer  out,  as  the 
militia  held  him  under  military  necessity.  A  few  days 
after  he  was  arrested,  Sheriff  Rutan  of  Telluride 
115 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

came  to  Denver  to  arrest  Haywood  on  the  same 
charge,  but  Haywood  blocked  his  plans  by  getting 
a  friend  in  Denver  to  swear  out  a  warrant  on  the 
same  charge,  and  a  justice  in  Denver  that  was 
friendly  to  him  put  him  in  the  custody  of  the  deputy 
sheriff,  who  stayed  with  him  all  the  time ;  and  he  had 
his  case  continued  from  time  to  time. 

Pettibone  and  Haywood  decided  we  ought  to  teach 
them  a  lesson  for  sending  Rutan  up  there,  and  Pet- 
tibone and  I  were  laying  for  Rutan  the  evening  he 
went  to  take  the  train  in  Denver  for  home.  We 
waited  in  an  alley  off  Seventeenth  Street,  just  before 
you  got  to  the  depot,  and  Pettibone  was  going  to 
hit  him  with  some  brass  knuckles,  and  we  were  going 
to  drag  him  into  the  alley  and  finish  him.  But  he  had 
seven  men  with  him  on  his  way  to  the  depot,  and  we 
couldn't  get  him. 

Haywood  and  Pettibone  were  pretty  warm  under 
the  collar  about  this  time.  They  said  they  could  not 
get  any  justice  in  the  courts,  that  Peabody  was  hold- 
ing Moyer  down  there  under  martial  kw,  and  that 
he  had  no  right  to,  and  the  only  way  they  knew  of 
to  get  any  justice  was  to  take  the  law  into  their 
own  hands  and  put  Peabody  out  of  business.  So  they 
decided  then  they  wanted  me  to  get  away  with  the 
governor.  Pettibone  told  me  where  he  lived,  and  they 
wanted  me  to  take  a  look  around  his  residence  and 
116 


WE    TRIED   TO   ASSASSINATE    PEABODY 

see  what  the  chances  would  be  to  get  away  with  him. 
I  took  a  look  around  there,  and  told  him  I  thought 
a  man  could  lay  alongside  a  stone  fence  in  a  vacant 
lot  that  was  on  one  side  of  his  house,  and  shoot  him 
with  buck-shot  when  he  came  home  at  night.  I  went 
and  sat  around  the  capitol  building  and  read  until 
I  saw  him,  so  I  would  know  him  and  learn  his  habits, 
and  I  told  Haywood  I  thought  he  could  be  gotten 
all  right,  but  that  I  ought  to  have  some  one  to  help 
me.  It  is  better  to  have  two  men  on  a  job  of  this 
kind,  so  that  one  can  watch,  and  of  course  two  men 
could  hold  up  the  police  better  than  one,  if  you  had 
to.  Besides,  you  get  half  crazy  thinking  of  a  job 
of  this  kind,  when  one  man  is  alone. 

Haywood  said  Steve  Adams  was  the  best  man  he 
knew  of  to  go  in  a  job  of  that  kind,  only  he  said 
he  was  so  well  known.  But  we  thought  if  he  came 
down  there  in  the  city,  and  did  not  go  around  in 
the  daytime  much,  he  might  not  be  known.  So  I  left 
there  and  went  back  to  Cripple  Creek,  where  Steve 
lived.  I  had  never  had  anything  to  do  with  him  at 
this  time,  and  was  only  slightly  acquainted  with  him. 
I  went  and  saw  him,  and  told  him  what  they  wanted, 
and  he  said  he  was  ready  for  any  old  thing. 

I  made  arrangements  with  Adams  to  come  to  Den- 
ver in  a  few  days,  and  I  went  right  back  to  Denver, 
and  told  Haywood  and  Pettibone  that  Adams  would 
117 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

be  there  soon.  I  kept  a  watch  around  the  governor's 
place,  and  learned  all  I  could  about  his  habits,  and 
learned  he  usually  came  home  in  a  hack  quite  late 
at  night.  Adams  came  down  to  Denver  in  a  few  days, 
and  Haywood  gave  him  money  to  get  some  new 
clothes  and  fix  himself  up  some,  and  we  got  rooms 
out  of  the  main  part  of  the  city  a  little,  and  each 
got  a  sawed-off  shot-gun  from  Pettibone,  and  kept  a 
lookout  for  the  governor.  We  had  a  place  fixed  in 
Pettibone's  lot  back  of  the  house  to  hide  our  shot- 
guns after  we  had  shot  the  governor,  if  we  got  a 
chance,  as  Pettibone  lived  only  a  short  distance  from 
the  governor  and  there  was  a  dark  street  we  could 
take  part  of  the  way  to  get  there,  and  Pettibone 
was  to  take  the  guns  and  clean  them  up  and  put 
them  away. 

We  worked  on  this  for  some  time,  and  never  hap- 
pened to  catch  the  governor  coming  home  at  night, 
and  we  conceived  the  idea  of  planting  a  bomb  under 
the  edge  of  the  sidewalk,  and  stretching  a  fine  wire 
across  some  vacant  lots  that  were  there,  and  hiding 
it  in  the  grass,  and  setting  it  off  by  pulling  the  cork 
out  of  a  bottle  filled  with  acid.  When  the  acid 
touched  the  giant-caps  it  would  explode  the  bomb. 
We  expected  to  pull  this  wire  when  Governor  Pea- 
body  came  along  there  in  the  morning  on  his  way 
to  the  State-house.  It  was  his  habit  to  walk  from  his 
118 


JAMES    H.    PEABODY 

Ex-Governor  of  Colorado,  whom  Orchard  repeatedly  attempted  to 
assassinate. 


WE  TRIED  TO  ASSASSINATE  PEABODY 
residence  to  the  State-house  every  morning  between 
nine  and  ten  o'clock.  Adams  went  up  to  a  little  min- 
ing-camp not  far  from  Denver  to  a  friend  he  knew, 
and  that  knew  about  some  of  these  outrages,  and 
got  about  fifty  pounds  of  powder  and  brought  it 
back  in  a  grip.  He  took  it  over  to  Pettibone's  store, 
made  a  box  and  put  the  powder  into  it,  and  fixed  a 
lid  so  we  could  bury  it  and  leave  a  wire  out  of  the 
ground  a  little,  so  we  could  attach  another  wire 
to  it. 

About  the  time  we  got  this  ready,  and  were  going 
to  bury  it  under  the  sidewalk  some  dark  night,  the 
executive  board  of  the  Western  Federation  of  Min- 
ers met  to  make  arrangements  for  the  annual  con- 
vention. It  was  now  some  time  in  May.  The  board 
were  gathered  in  Denver  and  were  going  over  the 
books,  as  the  custom  is,  just  before  the  convention, 
and  Haywood  stopped  us  from  using  a  bomb  at  this 
time,  as  he  thought  it  might  be  laid  to  some  of  the 
executive  board. 

We  had  seen  Mr.  Peabody  coming  home  late  at 
night  in  a  hack,  and  one  night  we  had  our  pump 
shot-guns  all  ready,  and  waited  across  the  street 
opposite  in  a  yard  under  some  trees,  and  when  we 
saw  his  carriage  coming,  we  got  out  on  the  street, 
and  as  the  carriage  slowed  up  we  followed  up  behind 
it,  and  were  only  about  thirty  or  forty  feet  behind 
119 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

it  when  they  got  out.  We  had  our  guns  leveled  at 
them  to  shoot  as  soon  as  we  saw  the  governor.  We 
had  watched  so  we  could  tell  him,  and  it  was  also 
quite  light  there.  But  there  were  only  three  women 
got  out,  and  the  carriage  began  to  turn  round,  and 
we  put  our  guns  down  quick  and  got  on  the  side- 
walk and  started  down  the  street.  The  carriage 
driver  let  his  horses  walk  and  kept  looking  at  us, 
and  the  women  kept  watching  us  too,  and  stood  on 
the  porch  as  far  as  we  could  see  them.  We  took  the 
first  cross  street  and  got  out  of  sight  as  quickly  as 
possible.  We  noticed  the  next  day  in  the  papers  that 
the  governor  had  gone  out  to  Fort  Logan  with 
some  military  men  and  did  not  return  till  the  next 
day. 

However,  Haywood  said  he  had  been  studying 
up,  and  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  Dave  Moffat 
was  behind  the  whole  thing,  and  that  Governor  Pea- 
body  was  often  closeted  with  him  in  Moffat's  private 
office,  and  he  said  Mr.  Moffat  had  been  mixed  up 
in  the  Leadville  strike  some  years  ago,  and  he  wanted 
us  to  leave  off  Peabody  and  see  if  we  could  not  get 
Moffat.  We  went  to  watching  Mr.  Moffat's  habits, 
but  we  could  not  get  much  track  of  him.  We  knew 
where  his  residence  was,  but  we  could  never  see  him 
coming  or  going  from  it,  and  we  worked  along  on 
this  for  some  time  without  ever  being  able  to  see 
120 


WE    TRIED    TO    ASSASSINATE    PEABODY 

Mr.  Moffat  around  his  house.  Haywood  would  tell 
us  when  he  was  in  the  city,  as  he  did  his  banking 
at  Mr.  Moffat's  bank,  and  was  there  every  day,  and 
while  he  said  he  hardly  ever  saw  Mr.  Moffat,  he 
could  always  tell  when  he  was  there,  as  he  always 
kept  a  guard  at  the  door  of  his  private  office.  Hay- 
wood  furnished  us  with  money  all  this  time. 


121 


CHAPTER  TEN 

THE  SHOOTING  OP  LYTE  GREGORY  BEFORE  THE 
CONVENTION 

THE  executive  board  had  met  and  were  having 
a  pretty  stormy  time,  and  James  Murphy 
from  Butte  would  not  sign  the  emergency  bill 
— that  is,  for  the  expenditures  out  of  the  emergency 
fund.  During  one  of  their  sessions  it  was  reported 
by  Foster  Milburn,  a  Federation  man  from  Idaho 
Springs,  that  Lyte  Gregory — who  had  been  a  de- 
tective in  the  Idaho  Springs  labor  troubles,  and 
had  been  a  deputy  and  a  leader  of  the  deputies  in 
a  strike  down  in  the  Southern  coal-fields,  several 
depredations  being  laid  at  his  door — was  in  the  city, 
and  that  Milburn  met  him  the  morning  he  arrived 
in  Denver.  Milburn  told  Pettibone  about  him,  and 
Pettibone  went  over  to  the  Federation  headquarters, 
where  the  executive  board  was  in  session,  and  told 
them  about  Gregory,  and  they  said  there  ought  to 
be  something  done  with  him.  That  afternoon  Petti- 
bone saw  Adams,  and  wanted  him  to  go  out  with 
him  that  night,  and  take  Gregory  and  mutilate  him, 


THE  SHOOTING  OF  LYTE  GREGORY 

as  they  claimed  he  had  helped  do  that  to  an  old  man 
down  in  the  coal-fields.  And  a  little  later  they  saw 
me  and  told  me  about  it,  and  wanted  to  know  if  I 
would  go  along,  and  we  fixed  up  to  go. 

We  three — Pettibone,  Adams,  and  myself — all 
went  over  on  Curtis  Street,  where  Gregory,  Milburn, 
and  another  man  were  in  the  back  part  of  a  saloon 
talking,  and  we  went  in  and  got  a  drink,  and  saw 
them,  so  we  would  know  them.  Then  we  came  out 
and  stood  across  the  street  in  front  of  the  St.  James 
Hotel,  where  we  could  see  them  when  they  came  out. 
Milburn  understood  what  we  were  going  to  do,  and 
stayed  with  them  to  find  out  where  they  were  going, 
and  while  we  stood  there  watching  for  them,  Petti- 
bone  made  an  excuse  to  go  some  place,  and  said  he 
would  be  back  in  a  few  minutes.  But  while  he  was 
gone  they  all  three  came  out,  and  Gregory  and  this 
other  man  took  a  street-car.  Adams  and  I  took  the 
same  car,  and  followed  them  when  they  got  off.  They 
went  down  to  a  saloon  on  Santa  Fe,  near  Tenth 
Street  South,  and  Milburn  came  out  on  the  next 
car.  He  had  been  up  to  see  some  men  in  the  Granite 
Block,  where  a  good  many  men  we  knew  were,  so 
he  could  establish  an  alibi.  The  man  that  came  with 
Gregory  was  also  from  Idaho  Springs,  and  ran  a 
poker  game  in  the  saloon  they  went  to.  After  Mil- 
burn  came  he  told  us  all  about  this.  Gregory  and 
123 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

some  others  sat  down  in  the  main  saloon  and  went 
to  playing  cards,  and  we  thought  we  would  give  up 
our  former  plan  and  kill  him  outright. 

It  was  now  about  ten  o'clock  at  night.  I  went 
out  to  our  room  two  or  three  miles  away,  and  left 
the  rest  watching  him.  We  were  going  to  shoot  him 
through  the  window  of  the  saloon  as  he  sat  at  the 
table.  I  got  a  sawed-off  shot-gun,  and  brought  it 
back  in  pieces  under  my  coat.  But  when  I  got  back 
with  the  gun,  they  had  moved  into  a  little  room  in 
the  back  part  of  the  saloon,  and  we  could  not  see 
them,  though  we  could  hear  them  from  the  street 
through  a  window.  But  this  window  had  the  blinds 
so  closely  drawn  that  we  could  not  see  them.  I  went 
in  once  and  bought  a  bottle  of  beer,  to  see  if  I  could 
see  where  they  were,  but  the  door  was  closed,  and  I 
could  see  nothing,  and  we  concluded  to  wait  until 
Gregory  came  out. 

A  little  after  twelve  o'clock  he  came  out  and 
started  up  the  street  alone,  and  we  three  followed 
him.  We  had  to  cross  the  street  to  get  on  the  same 
side  he  was  on.  In  doing  this  we  ran  into  some  wires 
stretched  on  the  outside  of  the  sidewalk  to  protect 
the  lawns,  and  when  we  stumbled  into  these  we  at- 
tracted his  attention,  and  he  started  to  reach  for 
his  gun  and  back  up  toward  the  fence.  When  he  did 
this,  I  shot  him  three  times  in  quick  succession  be- 


THE  SHOOTING  OF  LYTE  GREGORY 

fore  he  fell,  and  then  ran  down  the  alley,  as  we  were 
just  opposite  it.  We  separated  as  soon  as  we  got 
out  of  the  alley.  I  discharged  another  shell  acciden- 
tally, before  we  got  out  of  the  alley,  in  taking  the 
shells  out  of  the  gun.  All  the  shooting,  including 
this,  took  place  within  a  minute  or  so,  and  we  saw 
no  one  and  no  one  seemed  to  be  following  us. 

I  took  the  gun  down  and  put  it  under  my  coat, 
and  we  made  our  way  to  Pettibone's  house — that  is, 
Adams  and  I.  Milburn  went  by  himself.  We  left  the 
shot-gun  at  Pettibone's  in  the  place  that  had  been 
previously  arranged  while  we  were  working  on  the 
governor,  and  we  went  on  to  our  room  on  Downing 
Avenue.  Adams  and  I  put  some  turpentine  on  our 
shoes,  so  they  couldn't  follow  us  with  dogs.  They 
did  try  to  follow  us  the  next  day  with  some  blood- 
hounds they  got  from  Pueblo,  but  they  went  just 
the  opposite  direction  from  the  way  we  went. 

The  next  morning  the  papers  had  the  account  of 
the  murder  in  them.  We  did  not  go  down-town  until 
the  afternoon,  and  then  went  to  the  Granite  Block 
to  Jack  Simpkins's  and  Kirwan's  room,  they  both 
being  members  of  the  executive  board.  This  was 
Sunday  and  the  board  was  not  in  session.  Haywood 
and  Pettibone  came  up  there  a  little  while  later,  and 
Haywood,  Pettibone,  Simpkins,  Adams,  and  myself 
talked  over  the  murder,  and  they  told  us  that  we 
125 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

did  a  fine  job.  Hay  wood  said  he  had  run  across  Arm- 
strong, the  sheriff  and  chief  of  police  in  Denver, 
and  he  said  Armstrong  said  that  whoever  "  bumped 
off  "  Gregory  had  done  a  good  job,  and  that  his  men 
would  not  look  very  much  for  any  one.  Haywood 
said  the  detectives  had  had  Milburn  over  and  had 
questioned  him,  but  did  not  arrest  him,  though  they 
told  him  they  wanted  to  see  him  again.  He  said  Mil- 
burn  was  a  cool,  level-headed  fellow,  and  that  he  had 
given  an  account  of  where  he  went  after  leaving 
Gregory  at  the  saloon  on  Curtis  Street,  and  they 
had  gone  and  seen  these  parties  that  he  was  with, 
and  they  had  told  the  same  story.  I  don't  know,  but 
I  think  this  had  been  previously  arranged.  They  had 
Milburn  up  a  time  or  two  afterward  and  questioned 
him,  but  did  not  arrest  him.  There  was  a  lot  of  news- 
paper talk  about  this,  but  that  was  all;  there  was 
never  any  one  arrested  for  it. 

Haywood  told  me  some  time  afterward  that  some 
of  the  members  of  the  executive  board  were  up  at 
the  office  the  next  morning  after  this  happened,  and 
Simpkins  took  the  paper  with  an  account  of  this 
murder  in  and  handed  it  to  Murphy,  and  that  Mur- 
phy looked  at  the  head-lines,  and  put  the  paper 
behind  him  and  would  not  read  it.  I  don't  know 
whether  it  was  before  or  after  this — but  I  think  it 
was  after — that  they  handed  Murphy  the  emergency 
126 


THE  SHOOTING  OF  LYTE  GREGORY 

bill  and  told  him  to  sign  his  name  the  first  one.  I 
think  at  first  he  refused,  and  Haywood  told  him  that 
he  (Murphy)  would  sign  it,  and  say  that  he  liked  it. 
This  was  the  bill  that  Murphy  had  refused  to  sign, 
but  Haywood  told  me  that  he  signed  it  and  they  had 
no  more  trouble  with  him;  Haywood  said  if  he  had 
not  signed  it  he  would  not  have  left  the  room  alive, 
and  he  said  he  guessed  he  thought  of  Gregory. 

A  short  time  after  this  Adams  got  on  a  drunk, 
and  some  of  his  friends  sent  him  back  to  Cripple 
Creek.  Then  the  annual  Federation  convention  met. 
I  attended  this  most  of  the  time,  and  they  had  a 
pretty  stormy  session.  Many  of  the  delegates  were 
dissatisfied  with  the  strikes  that  had  been  called  and 
the  large  amount  of  money  that  had  been  spent — 
nearly  half  a  million  dollars — and  they  were  talking 
of  electing  new  officers.  James  Murphy,  the  repre- 
sentative on  the  executive  board  from  Butte,  had 
been  down  to  Telluride  and  had  seen  Moyer  in  the 
"  bull-pen  "  there,  and  it  was  said  that  Moyer  had 
made  some  deal  with  Butte  and  was  going  to  turn 
Haywood  down,  and  it  was  thought  there  was  going 
to  be  a  split  and  some  of  the  districts  would  with- 
draw from  the  Federation. 

Moyer  always  seemed  to  be  jealous  of  Haywood, 
and  he  had  some  reason  to  be,  as  Haywood  always 
seemed  to  run  the  office.  And  when  Moyer  was  in 
127 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

jail  at  Telluride  their  relations  became  more  strained 
than  ever.  Moyer  used  to  send  what  letters  or  other 
business  he  had  connected  with  the  Federation  to  his 
wife,  and  had  her  get  Copley  of  the  executive  board 
to  attend  to  them.  This  made  Haywood  pretty 
angry.  It  was  also  reported  that  Moyer  had  shown 
the  military  officers  at  Telluride  great  respect.  This 
also  made  Haywood  angry,  and  when  Murphy  went 
down  to  see  Moyer,  Haywood  and  Pettibone  thought 
there  was  some  job  being  worked  up  by  Moyer  and 
Murphy  to  oust  Haywood ;  and  Pettibone  and  Hay- 
wood  thought  Moyer  was  weakening,  and  we  talked 
of  putting  him  out  of  the  way.  After  Moyer  got  out, 
he  explained  that  the  reason  he  was  so  friendly  to 
the  militia  officers  was  that  he  was  sick  and  thought 
they  would  use  him  better.  But  he  and  Haywood 
were  not  very  good  friends  afterward.  Moyer  was 
in  jail  over  three  months,  and  when  he  came  back 
to  the  office  again  after  he  was  released  from  the 
"  bull-pen,"  Haywood  and  he  just  spoke  to  each 
other,  as  if  he  had  only  been  out  a  day. 


128 


CHAPTER    ELEVEN 

HOW  WE  BLEW  UP  THE  INDEPENDENCE  DEPOT  DURING 
THE    CONVENTION 

THEN  W.  F.  Davis,  Parker,  and  Pettibone 
wanted  me  to  go  to  Cripple  Creek  and  pull 
off  something,  and  stir  up  the  delegates,  so 
they  would  quit  this  quarreling,  and  be  united,  and 
finish  up  their  business  and  go  home.  The  different 
factions  were  having  their  little  meetings  nights. 
During  this  wrangle  Pettibone,  Davis,  and  Parker 
said  I  had  better  go  to  Cripple  Creek  and  blow  up 
something,  as  that  would  not  only  unite  the  conven- 
tion, but  if  it  happened  when  all  the  union  leaders 
were  out  of  the  district,  they  would  not  know  who 
to  lay  it  to.  I  told  them  it  would  not  be  much  trouble 
to  blow  up  the  Independence  depot.  We  had  talked 
of  this  before.  The  idea  was  to  get  the  night  shifts 
of  non-union  miners  that  got  on  the  2.30  train 
there  every  morning.  They  said  that  would  be  all 
right.  Hay  wood  said  he  did  not  want  me  to  get 
mixed  up  in  a  job  like  that,  and  wanted  me  to  get 
some  one  else  to  do  it,  as  he  said  he  had  some  heavier 
129 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

work  for  me  to  do.  He  said  as  I  had  never  had  my 
name  mixed  up  with  the  Federation,  and  they  had 
never  suspected  me,  I  could  do  this  work  better  than 
some  one  that  had  been  written  up  in  the  papers  in 
connection  with  some  of  this  work.  I  told  him  I  would 
not  get  mixed  up;  that  I  would  get  some  one  else 
to  do  it,  or  I  would  set  it  off  with  an  alarm-clock. 

Pettibone  was  doorkeeper  at  the  convention  hall, 
and  Parker,  Davis,  Pettibone,  and  myself  were  talking 
this  over,  and  they  wanted  me  to  go  up  to  the  district 
that  afternoon.  The  convention  had  just  assembled 
after  lunch,  and  Haywood  came  in  while  we  were  talk- 
ing, and  we  asked  him  about  it,  and  he  said  no  doubt 
it  would  be  a  good  thing,  and  that  anything  went 
with  him.  He  gave  me  some  money,  and  told  me  to  be 
sure  and  not  get  mixed  up  myself. 

I  bought  an  alarm-clock  and  went  to  Cripple  Creek 
that  afternoon. 

I  went  and  asked  Billy  Aikman  if  he  wanted  to 
help  do  a  little  job.  He  told  me  he  did  not  see  how 
he  could  get  away,  as  he  had  bought  a  half-interest  in 
a  saloon  at  Independence  and  was  tending  bar  nights, 
and  he  thought  he  might  be  missed  if  he  wasn't  there. 
I  did  not  tell  him  what  we  were  going  to  do.  Then 
I  went  and  told  Adams  they  wanted  a  little  job  done, 
and  he  said  all  right,  he  was  ready  for  any  old  thing, 
or  words  to  that  effect.  I  told  Billy  Easterly  what 
130 


WE    BLOW    UP    INDEPENDENCE    DEPOT 

we  were  going  to  do,  and  he  said  all  right,  if  we 
wanted  any  help  he  would  help  us.  I  went  and  saw 
Floyd  Miller,  where  he  was  working  on  a  lease,  and 
asked  him  if  he  would  get  me  a  hundred  pounds  of 
powder  and  two  boxes  of  giant-caps.  He  said  he 
would,  and  I  gave  him  the  money  to  get  them. 

I  got  Adams  and  went  over  that  night  after  the 
powder,  where  Miller  said  he  would  leave  it,  but  it 
was  not  there.  Adams  and  I  went  over  to  see  Miller 
the  next  day,  and  Miller  said  they  did  not  deliver 
it,  but  that  he  had  ordered  it  and  thought  it  would  be 
up  sure  that  day.  We  went  over  that  night,  and  car- 
ried it  over  to  Independence,  and  hid  it  in  an  old 
cellar  in  the  back  of  a  cabin  that  Adams  had  a  key 
to.  I  think  this  was  on  Thursday  evening,  and  we 
intended  to  use  the  powder  on  Saturday  night. 

A  good  while  before  this,  Johnnie  Neville  and  my- 
self had  planned  to  go  out  on  a  camping  and  hunting 
trip,  and  as  his  saloon  had  not  paid  him  since  the 
strike,  he  said  he  would  close  it  up,  and  I  said  to 
him  that  he  had  better  burn  it  up.  So  he  got  the  sa- 
loon insured  after  this,  and  we  took  out  some  of  the 
liquor  and  buried  it  in  a  dump.  So  when  I  went  to 
Cripple  Creek  to  get  Steve  Adams  to  go  after  Gov- 
ernor Peabody,  we  set  the  saloon  on  fire.  I  took  five 
bottles  of  the  Grecian  fire  and  poured  it  round  in  the 
upper  rooms  of  the  saloon,  and  shut  the  doors  and 
131 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 
went  away.  I  got  these  bottles  in  the  dump  by  Eas- 
terly's cabin.  He  told  me  where  they  were  when  I  saw 
him  in  Denver.  The  saloon  was  all  in  flames  a  short 
time  later,  and  no  one  could  get  near  it,  and  it  burned 
up  completely. 

Now,  after  Adams  and  I  had  fixed  up  everything 
to  blow  up  the  depot,  I  thought  it  would  be  a  good 
plan  to  go  off  with  Johnnie  Neville  on  this  camping 
trip.  I  figured  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  me  to  go 
away  from  there  in  the  daytime  with  him,  and  then 
come  back  at  night  on  horseback  and  do  the  job;  and 
as  Neville  had  a  good  reputation  and  was  well  thought 
of,  I  took  advantage  of  the  saloon  fire  and  thought 
he  dare  not  go  back  on  me.  Neville  wanted  to  go  with 
me,  and  we  looked  around  for  a  team  and  wagon,  as 
we  intended  to  drive  through  the  country.  We  bought 
a  team  and  wagon  from  Joe  Adams,  Steve's  brother. 
We  got  all  ready  and  intended  to  leave  on  Saturday, 
and  I  intended  to  come  back  on  horseback  Saturday 
night  and  blow  up  the  depot  and  ride  back  to  where 
we  camped. 

But  Friday  evening  Billy  Easterly  came  to  my 
house  and  told  me  Parker  was  up  from  Denver  and 
wanted  to  see  me.  I  went  down  to  Parker's  house  in 
Independence,  and  he  told  me  the  convention  had  ap- 
pointed a  committee  to  come  up  and  investigate  the 
strike,  and  to  see  the  mine  operators'  representative 


WE    BLOW    UP   INDEPENDENCE    DEPOT 

and  get  both  sides  of  the  story.  The  Hay  wood  faction 
did  not  want  this  committee  appointed,  and  after  it 
was  appointed  Parker  said  they  did  not  want  them  to 
come  up  alone,  and  they  decided  to  have  him  come 
with  them.  I  told  them  we  were  all  ready,  and  intended 
to  finish  the  job  Saturday  night,  but  he  wanted  us  to 
wait  until  they  got  away.  He  said  they  would  hang 
him  if  anything  like  that  happened  when  he  was  there, 
but  he  said  if  it  was  going  to  make  any  particular 
difference  to  go  ahead,  and  he  would  take  his  chances, 
and  would  rather  like  to  catch  this  committee  up  there, 
so  they  would  get  a  touch  of  high  life.  I  told  him  we 
would  wait  until  they  left,  so  Parker  and  this  com- 
mittee went  and  had  a  conference  with  the  secretary 
of  the  mine  operators,  and  the  committee  were  favor- 
able to  some  kind  of  a  settlement. 

Now,  Haywood  and  the  strike  committee  and  some, 
if  not  all,  of  the  executive  board  did  not  want  this 
committee  to  make  any  settlement  or  interfere  with 
the  strike,  and  Haywood  said  they  had  spent  too  much 
money  to  let  them  settle  with  any  one  else,  and  that 
when  they  wanted  to  settle  they  would  have  to  come 
to  them.  Malcolm  Gillis  from  Butte  was  on  this  com- 
mittee, one  man  from  Wyoming,  and  one  from  British 
Columbia.  The  Haywood  faction  were  sore  at  Gillis, 
and  said  he  was  chairman  of  the  Republican  State 
Central  Committee  of  Montana  and  stood  in  with 
133 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

the  mine  operators.  The  fact  was  that  Gillis  was  a 
bright  and,  I  think,  reasonable  man,  and  they  were 
afraid  he  would  open  the  way  for  settlement,  and  they 
would  have  no  hand  in  it,  and  lose  the  glory. 

After  the  conference  with  the  secretary  of  the  mine 
operators,  the  committee  made  some  further  inquiry 
about  the  district,  and  visited  the  union  at  Victor 
Saturday  evening,  and  left  Sunday  for  Denver.  Sun- 
day evening,  Neville  and  I  and  his  little  boy  Charlie 
left  Independence  with  a  team  and  wagon,  and  drove 
down  the  road  toward  Colorado  Springs  a  few  miles 
— I  think  six  or  eight  miles — and  camped  for  the 
night.  I  told  Neville  I  intended  to  go  back  and  do 
a  little  work  that  night.  I  told  him  I  would  make 
some  excuse  before  Charlie,  and  if  anything  happened 
that  I  was  ever  mistrusted,  I  was  supposed  to  be  there 
all  night  with  them.  I  had  gotten  a  saddle  from  Tom 
Foster  before  I  left,  and  had  made  arrangements  with 
Adams  to  meet  me  where  we  left  the  dynamite. 

A  little  after  dark,  I  saddled  one  of  the  horses  and 
rode  back  within  a  mile  of  the  depot,  and  tied  my  horse 
in  some  bushes,  and  walked  the  rest  of  the  way  to  the 
cabin,  and  found  Adams  already  there.  This  was 
about  ten  o'clock.  He  had  a  candle,  and  we  stayed 
in  there  about  an  hour,  making  a  little  wooden  wind- 
lass to  set  off  the  dynamite  with.  We  fastened  two 
little  vials  on  the  cross-piece  of  this  with  a  strip  of 


WE   BLOW    UP   INDEPENDENCE   DEPOT 

leather,  so  when  you  pulled  on  the  windlass  these  bot- 
tles would  turn  over  and  spill  sulphuric  acid  on  the 
giant-caps  we  had  put  in  the  powder. 

About  eleven  o'clock,  when  'most  everybody  around 
there  had  gone  to  bed,  we  took  the  two  fifty-pound 
boxes  of  powder  with  us  and  went  over  to  the  depot. 
This  depot  had  been  closed  for  some  time,  and  they 
kept  no  operator  there,  though  the  train  stopped  there 
for  people  to  get  on  and  off.  The  depot  was  built 
on  a  side-hill,  with  a  long  platform  in  front  of  it. 
We  walked  under  this  platform,  and  I  crawled  under 
where  the  plank  came  right  close  to  the  ground.  I 
dug  away  a  little  place  in  there,  and  buried  the  two 
boxes  of  dynamite  in  the  ground  close  up  to  the 
planks,  put  in  the  giant-caps  and  set  up  the  wind- 
lass on  one  of  the  boxes,  and  filled  the  two  little  bot- 
tles with  sulphuric  acid  from  another  bottle  I  had  it 
in.  This  was  ticklish  business,  as  it  was  very  dark  in 
there,  and  I  had  to  fill  these  little  bottles  without  see- 
ing them;  and  though  I  kept  a  pasteboard  over  the 
giant-caps  and  the  dynamite  while  I  was  filling  this, 
yet  a  drop  of  the  acid  would  have  set  the  whole  thing 
off.  We  had  a  mixture  of  sugar  and  potash  on  the 
caps,  too,  that  the  acid  would  set  fire  to  immediately. 

Then  we  stretched  a  wire  out  from  the  windlass 
about  two  hundred  feet  on  to  a  spur  track,  and  tied 
a  chair-rung  to  the  end  of  it.  We  went  back  to  an 
135 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

old  ore-house  beside  the  spur  track,  and  waited.  It 
had  been  dark  and  lowery  that  night,  but  about  two 
o'clock  it  began  to  lighten  up.  We  were  a  good  deal 
put  out  by  this,  as  there  was  a  small  moon  and  it 
got  quite  light.  The  train  we  were  waiting  for  came  in 
every  evening  about  2.30,  and  it  generally  was 
on  the  dot.  We  heard  the  men  come  on  the  platform 
talking,  and  finally  we  heard  the  train.  Then  we  got 
down  to  the  end  of  our  wire  and  took  hold  of  the 
chair-rung,  and  when  the  train  was  within  about  a 
hundred  feet  of  the  depot,  we  each  had  a  hold  of  one 
end  of  this  chair-rung  which  the  wire  was  attached 
to,  and  pulled  it  and  kept  right  on  going.  We 
intended  to  take  the  wire  with  us,  but  forgot  that 
part,  as  the  rocks  and  debris  were  falling  around 
us  pretty  thick,  although  neither  of  us  got  hurt. 
I  do  not  know  how  many  men  were  on  the  platform 
at  the  time,  but  I  think  there  were  thirteen  killed 
outright  and  some  others  were  maimed  and  crippled 
for  life. 

We  ran  as  fast  as  we  could,  and  soon  got  up  on 
the  railroad  and  followed  it  around  nearly  to  the  old 
Victor  mine  on  the  north  side  of  Bull  Hill,  and  then 
separated.  Adams  went  on  around  to  Midway,  where 
he  lived,  and  I  went  down  to  where  I  left  my  horse,  on 
the  Colorado  Springs  road,  and  rode  back  to  our  camp 
as  fast  as  possible,  and  got  there  just  at  daybreak. 
136 


WE    BLOW    UP    INDEPENDENCE    DEPOT 
Mr.  Neville  and  Charlie  were  awake,  and  I  crawled  up 
in  the  wagon  and  went  to  sleep  for  a  while,  or  at  least 
tried  to  sleep. 

Mr.  Neville  asked  me  what  we  had  blown  up.  I  told 
him  nothing  at  first,  or  put  him  off  with  some  evasive 
answer.  He  said  there  were  two  reports  and  they  shook 
the  ground  there.  He  then  asked  me  if  it  was  the  Find- 
lay  mine ;  I  told  him  I  was  not  there,  and  this  was  rea- 
sonable enough  for  him  to  believe,  for  the  explosion 
was  at  2.30  and  it  was  only  a  few  minutes  after  three 
when  I  got  to  the  camp.  But  it  was  all  down  grade 
and  my  horse  was  cold  standing  so  long — for  it  was  a 
cold  night  for  that  time  of  year,  with  a  frost — and 
I  ran  him  most  of  the  way  at  full  speed,  only  slacking 
a  couple  of  times  close  to  two  houses,  so  they  would 
not  hear  the  horse  running. 

We  got  our  breakfast  and  started  on  down  the 
road  toward  Colorado  Springs  about  eight  o'clock. 
We  did  not  meet  or  see  any  one  who  said  anything 
to  us  until  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when 
we  got  close  to  Colorado  Springs,  and  a  man  asked 
us  if  we  were  from  Cripple  Creek.  We  told  him  we 
were,  and  he  asked  when  we  left,  and  we  told  him 
the  day  before,  and  he  began  to  tell  us  about  the 
explosion,  and  said  there  were  sixty  men  killed  and 
several  hurt,  and  the  depot  was  blown  to  atoms,  and 
some  of  the  people  living  close  by  were  thrown  from 
137 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

their  beds.  This  startled  Mr.  Neville  and  Charlie,  as 
Neville's  house  was  only  about  a  hundred  yards  from 
the  depot,  and  I  had  to  tell  him  I  knew  his  folks  were 
not  hurt.  I  did  not  let  Charlie  hear  me  tell  his  father 
this,  but  I  told  him  I  was  not  more  than  a  hundred 
feet  from  it  when  the  explosion  occurred,  and  this 
somewhat  pacified  him.  When  we  got  to  Colorado 
Springs  we  got  some  later  papers  and  found  that  the 
first  reports  were  exaggerated  and  that  none  of  the 
people  living  around  the  depot  were  seriously  hurt, 
and  we  bought  some  things  in  the  city  that  we  needed, 
and  went  on  about  four  miles  beyond  the  Springs  and 
camped  that  night.  The  next  morning  I  walked  back 
a  ways  until  I  reached  a  street-car  line,  and  went  into 
the  city  and  got  the  morning  papers  and  came  back. 
We  found  in  the  paper  where  a  piece  of  plank  had 
gone  through  the  roof  of  Mr.  Neville's  house,  and  a 
sliver  had  struck  Mrs.  Neville  on  the  breast  while  she 
was  in  bed,  but  had  not  seriously  hurt  her.  This  re- 
lieved me  a  whole  lot,  for  I  realized  my  position  if  any 
of  his  family  had  been  hurt. 

We  started  on  again,  and  drove  a  few  miles  beyond 
Palmer  Lake,  and  camped  the  next  night,  and  the 
next  afternoon  we  reached  the  suburbs  of  Denver  and 
got  a  little  barn  to  put  our  horses  and  wagon  in.  It 
was  only  a  little  way  from  the  end  of  the  street-car 
line,  and  after  we  put  our  horses  up,  we  took  the  car 
138 


WE   BLOW   UP   INDEPENDENCE   DEPOT 

and  went  into  the  city.  We  got  there  a  little  before 
dark. 

I  left  Mr.  Neville  and  started  to  go  to  Jack  Simp- 
kins's  room  in  the  Granite  Block.  I  met  Simpkins  on 
the  street,  and  we  went  up  to  this  room  together,  and 
Kirwan  was  there,  and  a  little  later  Haywood  and 
Pettibone  came  in,  and  while  we  were  talking  Steve 
Adams  came  in.  Kirwan  did  not  take  any  part  in  the 
conversation;  I  think  he  left  the  room  soon  after 
Simpkins  and  I  came  up.  They  were  all  greatly 
pleased  with  the  job,  and  they  said  it  was  the  only 
thing  that  ever  saved  the  Federation  from  being  split 
up.  They  said  every  delegate  there  wanted  to  get 
through  as  soon  as  possible,  and  there  was  no  more 
kicking  and  no  more  new  candidates  for  office,  as  no 
one  wanted  the  offices,  but  wanted  to  get  away  as  soon 
as  possible  for  fear  something  would  fall.  They  told 
us  everything  was  on  fire  up  in  the  district,  or  words 
to  that  effect,  and  they  had  declared  martial  law  and 
had  established  a  "  bull-pen,"  and  were  deporting 
men,  but  still  they  did  not  think  anything  of  this. 
They  were  well  pleased  to  think  they  had  all  been 
elected  again,  except  one  member  of  the  board,  and 
they  did  not  want  him.  They  said  the  dogs  had  fol- 
lowed my  trail  several  miles  down  the  canon,  but 
Haywood  said  he  did  not  think  they  were  on  to  any- 
thing. Adams  had  stayed  home  and  the  next  day  went 
139 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

over  to  Cripple  Creek,  and  his  friends  advised  him 
to  leave  the  district,  and  Monday  night  after  dark  he 
started  to  walk  to  South  Park,  and  he  caught  the  train 
there  and  came  in  to  Denver.  He  did  not  leave 
any  too  soon,  for  that  night  or  the  next  day,  I 
have  forgotten  which,  there  was  a  mob  of  about 
a  hundred  men  came  to  his  house,  and  if  they  had 
found  him  there  is  no  doubt  but  they  would  have 
lynched  him,  as  he  had  the  name  of  being  a  dyna- 
miter. 

Haywood  and  the  others  asked  us  what  we  intended 
to  do,  and  I  told  him  I  was  going  up  through  Wy- 
oming on  a  prospecting  and  pleasure  trip.  He  asked 
us  how  much  money  we  wanted,  and  said  it  would  be 
better  for  us  not  to  take  it  all  now  or  all  we  expected. 
Adams  told  him  he  wanted  $200  now,  and  he  said 
he  was  going  to  send  for  his  wife,  and  I  don't 
think  he  said  what  he  intended  to  do — if  he  knew. 
I  told  Haywood  I  wanted  $300  anyway  then.  Next 
day  I  got  the  $300  from  Pettibone,  and  Mr.  Neville 
and  I  bought  a  tent  and  some  other  things  we  needed, 
and  I  think  after  we  were  there  three  or  four  days  we 
got  our  team  and  started  for  Cheyenne,  Wyo.  I  think 
we  were  four  or  five  days  going  to  Cheyenne.  We  put 
our  horses  up  there  and  intended  to  let  them  rest  a 
day  or  so. 

We  went  to  Pat  Moran's  saloon,  as  he  was  an  old 
140 


WE    BLOW    UP    INDEPENDENCE    DEPOT 

friend  of  Pettibone's,  and  he  told  me  he  was  all  right 
and  to  go  to  see  him  if  we  stopped  at  Cheyenne.  The 
first  night  we  got  in  Cheyenne  we  were  at  his  saloon, 
and  he  handed  us  a  paper  with  our  names  and  good 
description  of  us,  stating  we  were  wanted  in  connection 
with  the  Independence  explosion.  I  showed  it  to 
Johnnie,  and  he  wanted  to  go  and  put  a  piece  in 
the  paper  telling  them  where  we  were,  if  they  wanted 
us.  I  told  him  to  wait  a  while  and  we  would  think  it 
over.  This  piece  also  stated  we  were  either  going  to 
Wyoming  or  New  Mexico,  and  would  probably  en- 
gage in  stock-raising,  and  that  we  had  taken  a  good 
supply  of  provisions,  and  were  heavily  armed  with 
the  latest  improved  firearms.  I  thought  the  proposi- 
tion over  that  night,  and  W.  F.  Davis  and  D.  C. 
Copley  came  into  Cheyenne  that  night  on  a  late  train, 
and  said  they  were  making  their  get-away,  as  the 
Cripple  Creek  authorities  were  hunting  them,  and 
they  told  me  how  they  were  throwing  all  suspects  in 
the  "  bull-pen,"  and  deporting  all  the  union  men,  and 
had  closed  up  all  the  union  stores,  and  forbade  any 
of  the  grocers  from  selling  anything  to  the  union 
men's  families.  I  did  not  know  hardly  what  to  do. 
Mr.  Neville  still  wanted  me  to  go  on  with  him,  and 
said  he  would  see  me  through,  and  that  they  could 
not  prove  anything  against  us.  I  was  sure  they  could 
not  prove  anything  if  he  stood  pat,  but  I  was  afraid 
141 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

they  might  arrest  us  and  get  at  little  Charlie,  who 
was  only  fourteen  years  old,  and  make  him  tell  that 
I  was  away  nearly  all  night  the  first  night  we  camped 
out  after  leaving  Cripple  Creek. 

We  had  a  good  outfit,  and  I  wanted  to  go  on  this 
trip,  and  we  were  going  to  try  to  get  into  a  saloon 
somewhere  in  a  good  lively  town ;  we  thought  of  Cody. 
I  knew  I  could  get  money  enough  from  Haywood  to 
start  up,  and  Neville  was  a  good  saloon  man,  and  also 
had  some  money.  I  thought  he  would  stay  by  me 
on  account  of  what  happened  between  us,  for  I  knew 
he  would  not  have  it  known  about  setting  his  saloon 
afire  for  the  world,  and  he  told  me  it  was  the  first 
crime  he  had  ever  committed  in  his  life.  I  feel  that 
I  ought  not  to  write  this  now,  that  is,  I  hate  to  men- 
tion his  name,  as  he  is  dead  and  gone,  poor  fellow, 
and  I  want  to  say  that  I  do  not  think  Neville  would 
ever  have  thought  of  doing  what  he  did  with  his 
saloon  if  I  had  not  set  him  up  to  it,  and  agreed  to 
help  him;  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  that  I  would 
never  have  taken  him  into  my  confidence.  I  knew  he 
had  a  good  reputation,  and  his  word  would  be  taken, 
and  I  was  sure  he  would  die  before  he  would  have 
it  known  that  we  burned  up  his  saloon.  I  have  no 
doubt  but  this  sent  him  to  an  early  grave — if  he  died 
a  natural  death. 

Davis  urged  me  to  quit  the  wagon  and  Neville,  and 
142 


WE    BLOW    UP   INDEPENDENCE    DEPOT 

for  him  and  I  to  go  to  the  coast  for  a  while,  and  he 
said  this  would  soon  blow  over.  I  did  not  like  Davis 
much,  and  then  I  knew  he  was  well  known,  and  had 
been  mixed  up  in  so  many  strikes  that  he  looked  like 
bad  company  for  me  to  be  traveling  with,  and  he  had 
used  me  pretty  small  when  I  was  broke  in  Cripple 
Creek.  Now  I  had  or  could  get  a  little  money,  and 
he  had  only  about  $100,  and  I  thought  I  would  have 
to  keep  him,  and  he  would  not  have  much  left  after 
he  paid  his  fare  to  the  coast.  I  asked  Pat  Moran  if 
he  would  go  to  Denver  for  me  and  take  a  letter  to 
Pettibone,  and  he  said  he  would,  as  he  wanted  to  go 
to  Denver  anyway.  I  gave  him  a  letter  to  Pettibone, 
and  gave  him  $10  to  pay  his  expenses.  I  told  Petti- 
bone in  the  letter  to  see  Haywood  and  get  me  $500 
and  send  it  to  me  by  Pat  Moran.  I  told  him  I  thought 
I  would  go  to  Los  Angeles,  and  while  there  would 
go  out  and  look  at  the  ranch  that  Johnnie  Neville  had 
near  San  Diego.  We  had  talked  this  over  before,  and 
Pettibone,  Haywood,  and  Moyer  said  they  would  put 
up  the  money  to  buy  his  ranch,  if  it  suited,  and  if 
it  did  not  to  get  one  that  did. 

Pettibone  sent  me  the  $500,  and  wrote  me  a  let- 
ter to  go  down  to  Los  Angeles  and  San  Diego  and 
look  over  that  country  and  hunt  up  a  small  place 
near  the  Mexican  line,  and  he  would  see  that  I 
got  the  money  to  buy  it,  and  he  said  we  would  have 
143 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

it  for  a  rendezvous  and  a  hiding-place  to  send  any 
one  we  wanted  to.  He  said  if  we  were  close  to  the 
Mexican  line  we  could  do  a  little  smuggling,  and 
also  get  across  the  line  quick.  I  had  told  him  in  the 
letter  that  Davis  was  there  and  wanted  to  go  with  me, 
but  he  told  me  to  go  alone,  and  if  I  wanted  any  one 
he  would  be  a  pretty  good  one  for  me  himself.  Moran 
returned  the  same  night  and  gave  me  Pettibone's 
letter  and  the  package  with  the  money  in  it.  I  think 
he  stated  that  the  newspapers  said  they  were  looking 
for  me,  but,  as  he  thought  I  was  going  to  Los  An- 
geles, he  did  not  warn  me  to  keep  out  of  the  way, 
and  I  did  intend  to  go  there  when  I  wrote  him.  I  told 
Johnnie  Neville  where  I  intended  to  go,  and  he  wanted 
me  to  recommend  them  to  buy  his  ranch  down  there 
if  I  went. 

I  thought  this  all  over,  and  thought  if  his  ranch 
did  not  suit,  which  I  had  reason  to  believe  it  would 
not,  as  it  was  in  that  dry  belt  and  no  water — and  we 
did  not  buy  it — but  we  got  a  place  anywhere  around 
that  country,  so  that  he  would  know  where  we  were, 
he  would  not  perhaps  feel  very  friendly  toward  us 
and  might  divulge  our  whereabouts.  As  he  wanted  me 
to  stay  with  him  for  the  time,  and  said  he  would  go 
to  California  with  me  later  on,  I  thought  it  might 
be  better  for  me  to  stay  with  him  and  keep  on  the 
right  side  of  him ;  and  so  I  decided  not  to  go  to  Cali- 
144 


WE    BLOW    UP    INDEPENDENCE    DEPOT 

fornia  for  the  present,  but  to  go  on  with  him  on  our 
trip. 

We  left  Cheyenne  and  drove  up  on  Crow  Creek, 
and  camped  there  two  or  three  days,  and  Pat  Moran 
and  Davis  came  up  there  and  stopped  a  day  or  so 
with  us  and  fished,  and  Davis  wanted  to  go  with 
us  on  the  trip,  but  I  told  him  there  was  no  room 
in  the  wagon,  as  we  were  already  crowded.  They  left 
us  and  we  went  on  to  Laramie.  We  just  stopped  there 
a  little  while  and  got  shaved,  and  got  a  few  little 
things  we  needed,  and  inquired  the  way  to  Casper. 
There  are  no  towns  to  speak  of  between  Laramie  and 
Casper,  and  we  drove  along  leisurely,  and  stopped 
and  camped  on  some  creeks  where  there  was  good 
fishing,  and  finally  reached  Casper.  I  think  we  were 
about  two  weeks  on  the  road  from  Laramie  to  Casper, 
and  had  not  seen  a  paper  during  this  time.  Mr. 
Neville  had  written  to  his  family  from  Cheyenne,  and 
told  them  to  address  him  there  in  care  of  Pat  Moran, 
and  we  made  arrangements  with  Moran  to  forward  the 
same  to  Casper.  We  went  to  the  post-office  when  we 
arrived  at  Casper  and  inquired,  but  there  was  no 
mail;  and  I  went  and  called  Pat  Moran  up  on  the 
phone,  and  he  told  me  no  mail  had  arrived  there  for 
any  of  us.  Neville  wrote  to  his  family  from  Casper, 
and  told  them  to  address  him  at  Cody. 

We  stayed  in  Casper  a  few  days  and  rested  our 
145 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 
horses,  and  then  started  for  Cody.  There  is  no  rail- 
road between  Casper  and  Cody,  or  at  least  there  were 
none  at  that  time,  and  most  of  the  way  it  is  a  dry  and 
barren  country.  I  think  we  were  about  a  week  on  the 
road,  and  about  thirty  miles  from  Thermopolis,  Wyo., 
when  one  of  the  wheels  of  our  wagon  broke.  I  took 
one  of  the  horses  and  saddled  him  and  rode  on  into 
Thermopolis,  got  a  new  wheel  and  sent  it  out  on  the 
stage,  and  rode  back.  We  came  on  into  Thermopolis 
then,  and  I  think  we  got  into  Thermopolis  about  the 
10th  of  July,  1904. 

Thermopolis  is  a  flourishing  town  situated  on  the 
Big  Horn  River  in  Wyoming,  and  is  noted  for  its  hot 
springs.  Although  there  was  not  a  railroad  within 
135  miles  at  that  time,  still  there  were  people  there 
from  all  over  the  country  taking  the  hot  baths.  I 
noticed  many  monuments  built  upon  the  mountains 
about  the  springs,  and  was  told  they  had  been  built 
by  people  that  came  there  as  a  last  resort,  and  had 
been  cured,  and  built  or  had  these  monuments  built 
as  a  memorial.  We  camped  there  by  one  of  these 
springs,  and,  as  it  was  a  nice  place  to  stop,  we 
thought  we  would  stay  a  few  days,  and  used  to  go 
in  bathing  every  day.  Neville  had  some  kind  of  a  ring- 
worm coming  on  his  face,  and  they  told  him  they 
thought  these  baths  would  help  him,  as  they  had  seen 
skin  diseases  cured  there  before.  I  think  we  had  been 
146 


WE    BLOW    UP    INDEPENDENCE    DEPOT 

there  nearly  a  week,  and  could  not  get  much  word 
how  things  were  going,  and  had  telephoned  to  Cody 
to  see  if  there  was  any  mail  there  for  Neville,  and 
was  told  there  was  not.  As  Neville  wanted  to  stay 
there  and  take  these  baths  a  while  longer,  I  proposed 
to  him  to  take  one  of  the  horses  and  saddle  and  ride 
on  to  Cody,  and  have  a  look  around  and  see  what 
the  prospects  were  for  starting  or  buying  out  a  saloon, 
and  then  come  back  again,  and  perhaps  he  would  be 
ready  to  start  again  by  that  time. 

Neville  was  agreeable  to  that,  and  so  I  started  and 
went  to  Cody  and  sent  the  horse  back  by  the  stage 
from  Meeteetse.  This  is  a  live  little  town  situated  on 
the  Gray  Bull  River,  Wyoming.  I  took  the  stage  from 
there  to  Cody,  and  got  some  mail  for  Mr.  Neville, 
and  a  letter  for  myself  from  Pettibone.  I  called  Neville 
up  on  the  phone  and  told  him  I  had  forwarded  him 
some  letters,  and  had  sent  the  horse  and  saddle  back, 
and  was  going  to  leave  there  for  the  present,  and  was 
going  to  Montana,  as  things  did  not  look  good,  and 
would  write  to  him.  I  told  him  things  looked  good  in 
Cody,  and  for  him  to  come  on  through,  and  I  would 
write  to  him.  What  caused  me  to  take  this  course  was 
Pettibone's  letter;  he  told  me  they  were  hot  on  my 
trail,  and  that  I  had  better  get  in  the  tall  timber.  At 
first  I  could  not  think  they  were  looking  for  us,  for 
if  they  had  been  they  would  have  found  us  before, 
147 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

as  we  had  not  tried  to  conceal  our  whereabouts,  and 
had  been  through  all  the  principal  cities  and  towns 
in  Colorado  and  Wyoming. 

I  was  undecided  at  first  what  to  do,  but  had  made 
up  my  mind  to  leave  there  for  the  present.  That  night 
I  got  in  a  poker  game  and  won  between  $100  and  $200, 
and  went  to  bed  about  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning 
and  got  up  in  the  afternoon.  I  think  they  had  a  game 
already  fixed  up  for  me.  I  started  to  play  some  more 
and  lost  a  couple  of  hundred  dollars  pretty  quick. 
I  saw  the  poker  game  was  too  strong  a  combination 
for  me  and  I  quit  it  and  went  over  to  buck  a  Black 
Jack  game,  and  got  to  betting  $50  at  a  turn,  and 
I  lasted  only  a  few  turns.  I  said  to  Mr.  Hall,  the 
proprietor,  "  Lend  me  $50  to  get  to  Denver,  and 
I  will  pay  you  when  I  come  back."  I  had  been 
talking  of  buying  a  place  there,  and  told  them  my 
partner  was  at  Thermopolis.  Mr.  Hall  handed  me 
$50  without  a  moment's  hesitation;  he  was  only 
loaning  me  my  own  money,  but  not  many  would 
have  done  that,  especially  me  being  a  total  stranger. 
I  think  I  went  then  under  the  name  of  Despasy  or 
Hogan.  I  had  made  up  my  mind,  now  that  I  was 
broke,  to  go  back  to  Denver. 


148 


CHAPTER    TWELVE 

HOW  I   WENT   TO   SAN    FRANCISCO   AND    BLEW   UP    FEED 
BRADLEY 

WHEN  I  had  been  gone  about  six  weeks 
from  Denver  after  the  Independence  depot 
explosion,  I  went  back  there,  and  met  Hay- 
wood  and  Pettibone  at  the  latter's  residence.  I  told 
them  of  my  trip  through  Wyoming.  I  did  not  tell 
them  I  had  lost  my  money  gambling,  but  said  that  I 
had  invested  it  in  some  real  estate  at  Cody,  Wyo., 
and  that  I  needed  some  more  money,  because  Johnnie 
Neville  and  I  were  going  into  the  saloon  business 
there.  I  got  some  money  from  Pettibone  then.  But 
we  decided  that  it  would  not  be  safe  for  me  to  go 
back  to  Cody,  as  Haywood  and  Pettibone  said  there 
was  no  doubt  about  the  authorities  at  Cripple  Creek 
being  after  me. 

They  told  me  they  had  Art  Baston  working  on 
Governor  Peabody,  but  that  he  seemed  to  be  slow, 
and  Haywood  told  me  that  he  was  married,  and  that 
they  did  not  seem  to  work  so  good  after  they  were 
married.  They  told  me  about  Andy  Mayberry,  super- 
149 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

intendent  of  the  Highland  Boy  mine  at  Bingham, 
Utah,  discharging  150  union  men  because  they  laid 
off  to  take  part  in  some  labor  demonstration,  and 
Haywood  said  he  wanted  me  to  see  Art  Baston,  and 
thought  he  would  like  to  send  us  up  there  and  put 
Mayberry  out  of  the  way,  as  he  said  they  could 
not  allow  a  man  to  do  that  kind  of  thing  with  the 
union  men,  or  the  union  men  there  would  think  they 
had  no  protection  from  the  union. 

Pettibone  made  an  appointment  with  Baston,  and 
I  met  him  at  Pettibone's  store  one  evening.  He  said 
he  had  been  around  Governor  Peabody's  place  some, 
but  that  Adams  had  told  him  about  us  being  there 
close  to  his  carriage  with  the  shot-guns,  and  the 
women  seeing  us,  and  Baston  said  he  was  a  little  leary 
about  hanging  around  there,  for  fear  Peabody  had 
guards. 

Right  after  that —  some  time  in  August,  1904 — I 
met  Haywood  and  Pettibone  on  a  Sunday  afternoon, 
and  we  had  a  long  talk  in  Pettibone's  back  yard. 
They  told  me  that  Adams  had  gone  up  to  Wardner, 
Idaho,  to  help  Jack  Simpkins  get  rid  of  some  claim- 
jumpers  that  had  jumped  his  and  some  other  claims, 
and  that  after  that  Steve  was  going  down  to  Caldwell, 
Idaho,  and  get  ex-Governor  Steunenberg  of  Idaho. 
They  asked  me  if  I  knew  where  Gordon  Post-Office  was 
up  there,  as  they  wanted  to  send  Jack  some  money 
150 


STEVE    ADAMS 

Who  confessed  in  writing  to  being  Orchard's  partner  and  co-worker 
in  the  field  of  professional  murder.  Adams  subsequently  re- 
pudiated his  confession. 


HOW    I    BLEW    UP    FRED    BRADLEY 

there  to  give  to  Steve,  to  come  down  to  Caldwell  on 
when  he  got  through  with  this  job  for  Simpkins. 
I  told  them  I  did  not  know  where  Gordon  Post-Office 
was,  but  if  Jack  told  them  to  send  it  there,  likely 
it  was  all  right.  But  they  said  they  would  send  it  to 
Ed  Boyce  at  Wallace,  and  he  would  give  it  to  Jack. 

They  also  said  Adams  was  going  to  stop  at 
Granger,  Wyo.,  on  the  way  up  to  Idaho,  and  Hay  wood 
said  that  he  had  given  Adams  instructions  to  look 
up  where  the  gang  of  train-robbers  and  bank-robbers 
and  hold-ups  called  the  Hole-in-the-Wall  gang  were. 
Haywood  was  going  to  get  this  gang  to  kidnap 
Charles  MacNeill  of  Colorado  Springs,  manager  of 
the  United  States  Reduction  and  Refining  Company, 
who  was  the  chief  man  that  fought  the  union  in  the 
Colorado  City  Mill  and  Smeltermen's  union  strike. 
Haywood  said  if  he  could  get  this  gang  in  with  him, 
and  kidnap  MacNeill  and  hold  him  for  ransom,  they 
would  get  as  much  money  as  the  strike  would  cost 
them.  This  gang  had  headquarters  in  the  Big  Horn 
Mountains,  where  you  could  look  out  for  miles  over 
the  level  and  see  anybody  coming.  They  said  the  only 
way  you  could  get  up  where  they  were  was  through 
a  very  narrow  box  canon,  and  they  had  that  fixed  so 
that  a  regiment  of  soldiers  couldn't  get  through  there 
without  being  killed  off. 

But  the  man  they  sent  Adams  to  told  him  there 
151 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

was  none  of  the  gang  there  then ;  that  they  were  all 
South ;  Adams  wrote  Pettibone  a  letter,  and  said  "  the 
birds  had  all  flown  South." 

We  talked  over  our  going  to  Bingham,  Utah,  and 
I  told  Haywood  I  was  well  acquainted  there,  and  was 
also  acquainted  with  Andy  Mayberry.  He  said  if  I 
was  I  had  better  not  go  there.  He  said  they  had  some 
work  in  California,  and  thought  I  had  better  go  down 
there,  and  he  said  they  had  some  of  this  old  work 
that  they  had  wanted  done  a  long  time,  and  that  this 
was  the  best  time  he  knew  of,  as  they  had  plenty  of 
money,  and  could  get  it  out  easier  now  and  it  would 
not  be  noticed  so  much.  They  received  more  money 
the  next  month  after  the  convention  than  any  month 
during  the  trouble ;  I  think  they  received  between  $40,- 
000  and  $50,000  for  the  strike  or  eight-hour  fund,  as 
it  was  called. 

We  held  this  latter  conversation  one  Sunday  in 
Pettibone's  back  yard — Haywood,  he,  and  I — and 
Haywood  finally  asked  me  if  I  would  go  to  California 
alone  and  see  if  I  could  put  Fred  Bradley  out  of 
the  way.  Mr.  Bradley  was  manager  of  the  Bunker 
Hill  and  Sullivan  mine  at  the  time  of  the  trouble  in 
the  Cceur  d'Alenes,  Idaho,  in  1899,  when  they  blew  up 
their  mill,  and  Haywood  said  he  was  at  the  head  of 
the  mine  operators'  association  of  California,  and  he 
said  they  were  raising  an  immense  fund  to  drive  the 
152 


HOW    I    BLEW    UP    FRED    BRADLEY 

Federation  out  of  the  State,  or  words  to  that  effect. 
He  said  they  wanted  to  show  those  fellows  that  they 
never  forgot  them.  He  also  said  he  had  sent  Steve 
Adams  and  Ed  Minster  to  California  to  get  Bradley, 
but  they  did  not  accomplish  it.  I  told  them  I  would  go 
down  and  try  it. 

The  next  day,  I  think,  Haywood  gave  Pettibone 
$150  more,  and  he  got  me  a  ticket  and  a  new  grip, 
and  I  took  the  early  train  the  next  morning  for  San 
Francisco.  Pettibone  told  me  any  time  I  wanted  any 
money  just  to  wire  him  and  he  would  send  it  to  me. 
I  went  by  the  name  of  John  Dempsey.  I  arrived  in 
San  Francisco  in  a  few  days,  and  stopped  at  the 
Golden  West  Hotel.  I  looked  around  in  the  city  di- 
rectory and  the  telephone  guide,  and  located  Mr. 
Bradley's  office  and  also  his  residence,  and  called  up 
his  office  by  phone,  and  they  told  me  Mr.  Bradley  had 
gone  on  a  trip  to  Alaska  and  would  not  be  back  for 
three  months.  I  wrote  a  letter  to  Pettibone  and  told 
him  this.  We  had  a  sort  of  a  cipher  to  write  by,  so  no 
one  could  tell  anything  about  it  if  it  fell  into  their 
hands.  I  also  told  him  in  this  letter  to  send  me  $100. 

During  the  time  I  was  waiting  for  an  answer  I 
noticed  in  the  paper  where  Johnnie  Neville  had  been 
arrested  at  Thermopolis  and  was  being  taken  back 
to  Cripple  Creek,  and  that  they  also  expected  to  ar- 
rest me  soon  and  take  me  back  there,  too ;  so  I  thought 
153 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

I  had  better  leave  the  hotel  and  get  a  private  room, 
and  not  go  around  much  in  the  daytime.  But  I  had 
told  Pettibone  to  address  me  at  the  Golden  West 
Hotel,  and  had  not  received  his  letter  yet,  but  had 
gotten  a  telegram  from  him  stating,  "  Business  bad, 
Johnnie  on  the  way,  wrote  you  to-day."  I  did  not  want 
to  stay  at  the  hotel  any  longer,  but  I  wanted  to  get 
this  letter,  so  I  went  and  hunted  the  secretary  of  the 
bartenders'  union,  named  Peter  L.  Hoff,  and  arranged 
with  him  to  get  the  letter  for  me  at  the  hotel.  I  told 
him  I  was  a  union  miner  from  Colorado.  I  left  the 
hotel  then  and  got  a  private  room  a  little  way  out. 
Hoff  sent  a  man  down  to  inquire  for  the  letter,  and 
he  said  as  soon  as  he  asked  the  clerk  at  the  hotel  if 
there  was  any  mail  for  Dempsey  he  touched  a  button. 
He  thought  he  did  this  to  call  an  officer,  and  he  said 
the  mail-carrier  also  happened  to  be  there,  and  he 
spoke  up  and  asked  where  Dempsey  was,  and  he  be- 
came more  suspicious  then,  and  said  I  was  a  traveling 
man  and  had  gone  to  Stockton,  Cal.  The  mail-car- 
rier asked  him  my  address,  and  he  told  him  Stock- 
ton, Cal.,  general  delivery.  There  was  nothing  in 
these  maneuvers — they  just  happened  that  way — 
but  this  man  thought  it  looked  suspicious,  and  so  it 
did.  I  would  say  that  when  you  are  on  work  of  this 
kind  you  soon  become  suspicious  of  everybody  and 
everything,  and,  in  a  word,  of  your  own  shadow. 
151 


HOW    I    BLEW    UP    FRED    BRADLEY 

So  Hoff  wrote  to  Stockton,  and  told  them  to  for- 
ward the  letter  to  him  at  211  Taylor  Street,  San 
Francisco,  and  he  got  a  card  in  a  day  or  so  from  the 
post-office  on  Mission  Street,  and  there  was  a  regis- 
tered letter  there  for  John  Dempsey.  I  gave  him  an 
order  to  get  it,  but  they  would  not  let  him  have  it. 
I  did  not  want  to  trouble  him  any  more,  and  he  said 
he  did  not  believe  there  was  any  one  watching  for  me 
there,  and  that  if  I  went  down  there  he  would  identify 
me,  so  I  went  down  with  him  later  and  got  the  letter 
without  any  trouble. 

Pettibone  told  me  to  lay  pretty  low  and  not  let  them 
pick  me  up  the  first  thing,  and  be  careful,  if  I  wrote 
to  him,  what  I  wrote,  and  to  destroy  his  letters  im- 
mediately. He  also  told  me  to  go  a  little  slow  on 
money,  as  it  was  hard  to  dig  up.  I  got  the  hundred 
dollars  I  sent  for  in  this  letter.  I  got  the  Denver 
papers  there  all  the  time,  and  knew  pretty  well  what 
was  going  on  in  Colorado,  and  kept  pretty  quiet  for 
a  while,  staying  in  most  of  the  time  during  the  day. 
But  I  got  tired  of  this,  and  thought  I  would  go  out 
to  some  little  summer  resort  and  stay  there  a  while, 
and  I  went  up  to  Caliente  Springs  and  stayed  there 
about  a  month.  I  then  came  back  to  the  city  and  got 
a  room  out  near  the  Presidio.  I  noticed  by  the  papers 
that  they  held  Johnnie  Neville  in  jail,  and  would  not 
give  him  bail,  and  I  noticed  the  names  of  several 
155 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

others  I  knew  who  were  arrested.  I  used  to  send  for 
$100  to  Pettibone  about  once  a  month,  and  he 
wired  it  to  me.  He  used  to  send  this  to  Harry 
Green,  in  care  of  Peter  L.  Hoff.  He  sent  this  as  com- 
ing from  Pat  Bone,  or  Bowen,  and  sometimes  as  from 
Wolff.  I  had  some  little  trouble  getting  the  first  draft, 
as  I  was  not  sure  what  name  he  gave  when  he  sent  it, 
but  I  got  it  all  right.  Mr.  Hoff  was  acquainted  with 
them  down  at  the  postal  telegraph  office,  and  after 
the  first  time  he  identified  me  they  used  to  give  it  to 
me  without  any  fuss. 

They  held  Johnnie  Neville  between  two  and  three 
months,  and  then  released  him  on  his  own  recogniz- 
ance, and  also  released  all  the  others,  only  placing 
charges  against  two,  and  releasing  these  on  bail.  I  felt 
more  easy  then  and  went  around  more,  and  Johnnie 
and  his  boy  went  back  to  Thermopolis  and  got  the 
team  and  wagon,  and  drove  back  to  Denver.  I  noticed 
these  things  in  the  papers. 

I  had  bought  ten  pounds  of  dynamite  to  make  a 
bomb  with,  and  got  a  room  only  a  few  doors  from 
Mr.  Bradley's  flat.  This  room  was  on  Washington 
Street  about  a  quarter  of  a  block  away,  but  on  higher 
ground,  and  my  windows  were  about  on  a  level  with 
the  Bradley  flat,  and  I  could  look  right  over  into  it. 
There  was  a  little  grocery  store  and  a  saloon  on  the  op- 
posite corner  from  Mr.  Bradley's  residence,  and  they 
156 


HOW    I    BLEW    UP    FRED    BRADLEY 

used  to  buy  their  groceries  there,  or  part  of  them.  I 
used  to  loaf  there  in  the  saloon  a  good  deal,  and  spent 
quite  a  bit  of  money  with  this  man.  He  was  an  Italian 
or  a  Swiss.  The  girls  that  worked  for  Mr.  Bradley 
used  to  be  over  at  the  store  every  day,  and  Guibinni, 
the  proprietor,  gave  me  an  introduction  to  them.  So 
I  got  to  talk  to  them,  and  took  one  of  them  to  the 
theater  once,  and  found  out  from  them  when  they  ex- 
pected Mr.  Bradley  home,  etc.  I  stayed  there  until 
he  did  come  home.  I  went  by  the  name  of  Berry  there. 
After  Mr.  Bradley  came  home,  some  time  in  October, 
I  noticed  his  movements,  and  learned  his  habits  pretty 
well.  He  used  to  leave  his  residence  about  eight  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  They  lived  on  the  corner  of  Leaven- 
worth  and  Washington  streets,  in  a  big  three-story 
residence  flat  that  had  six  families  living  in  it.  There 
was  a  big  archway  at  the  entrance,  and  the  flat  was 
built  out  flush  with  the  sidewalk.  They  all  went  in 
at  this  archway,  but  each  family  had  a  private  en- 
trance to  their  apartment.  I  had  figured  a  good  many 
ways  how  to  get  away  with  Mr.  Bradley  the  easiest  and 
not  get  caught.  I  had  stood  across  the  street  in  front 
of  the  entrance  to  his  residence,  with  a  shot-gun  loaded 
with  buck-shot,  and  tried  to  catch  him  coming  home 
at  night ;  but  it  was  not  light  enough  to  tell  him  from 
the  rest,  as  they  all  went  into  this  archway.  I  was 
getting  sick  of  staying  there,  and  Pettibone  had  sent 
157 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

an  answer  to  my  last  letter,  asking  him  to  send  me 
$500,  to  .call  it  off,  and  did  not  send  the  money. 

My  money  was  getting  low,  and  I  was  getting  des- 
perate, for  I  thought  they  just  took  advantage  of 
me,  not  sending  me  money  because  they  thought  I 
dared  not  come  back  to  Denver,  and  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  go  back  and  show  them.  I  knew  Haywood, 
Moyer,  or  Pettibone  dare  not  refuse  me  money  if  I 
asked  them  personally. 

The  desperate  and  horrible  means  I  conceived  at 
this  time  to  carry  out  my  plan  to  kill  Mr.  Bradley 
I  would  gladly  withhold  and  let  die  in  my  breast. 
But  I  feel  that  perhaps  I  owe  some  one  a  duty  that 
may  have  been  blamed  for  this,  and  wrongfully  ac- 
cused ;  and  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  make  this  known,  as 
I  have  promised  God  I  will  write  the  whole  truth  of 
my  wicked  and  sinful  life,  and  not  try  to  favor  myself. 
I  have  made  this  attempt  several  times,  and  it  has 
required  no  small  effort  on  my  part  to  write  some 
of  these  things. 

I  knew  this  place  well,  and  there  was  an  empty 
house  with  a  flat  roof  just  behind  the  apartment  where 
Mr.  Bradley  lived,  and  there  were  stairs  up  from  the 
back  way  on  the  outside  of  the  apartment.  I  went  up 
these  stairs  and  got  on  the  roof  of  this  vacant  house — 
for  it  was  right  close  to  the  stairs — and  waited  there 
until  the  milkman  brought  the  Bradleys'  milk,  which 
158 


HOW    I    BLEW    UP    FRED    BRADLEY 

was  a  little  before  daylight.  I  knew  he  left  this  milk 
there  in  bottles,  as  I  had  watched  him  before.  I  had 
a  little  powder  of  strychnine  made  for  each  bottle, 
and  raised  the  paper  cover  and  emptied  one  of  these 
in  each  bottle  of  the  milk  and  cream,  and  stirred  it 
up  a  little,  and  pressed  the  paper  cover  back  again, 
and  left  and  went  back  to  my  room.  I  figured  the  girls 
would  serve  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bradley's  breakfast  first, 
and  they  would  get  the  poison  first.  I  could  see  their 
kitchen  plainly  from  the  window  of  my  room,  but  I 
could  not  see  anything  unusual  there  that  morning. 
I  did  not  get  up  until  ten  and  sometimes  later,  and 
then  I  usually  went  down  to  the  little  saloon  bar  at 
Guibinni's  and  got  a  drink,  and  sat  there  and  read  the 
morning  paper.  This  morning  I  did  the  same,  and  I 
noticed  a  bottle  of  milk  standing  on  the  back  bar, 
and  asked  Guibinni  if  he  was  selling  milk,  or  drew  his 
attention  to  the  bottle  in  some  way  like  that.  He  began 
to  tell  me  about  this  milk,  and  wanted  me  to  taste  of 
it.  He  said  he  tasted  of  it,  and  could  feel  it  in  his 
throat  yet.  He  told  me  the  girls  over  at  Mr.  Bradley's 
had  brought  that  bottle  over,  and  wanted  him  to  take 
it  down  and  have  it  analyzed,  as  they  believed  there 
was  poison  in  it.  He  said  it  was  bitter  as  gall.  Now 
I  never  knew  before  that  strychnine  was  bitter,  but 
it  seems  the  cook  had  tasted  of  some  of  this,  found 
it  was  bitter,  and  told  Mrs.  Bradley,  and  then  they 
159 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

came  over  to  Guibinni's  place  to  get  some  more  milk 
and  cream  for  breakfast. 

After  this  failed,  I  got  a  bomb  ready.  I  bought 
a  piece  of  five-inch  lead  pipe  about  a  foot  long  at  a 
plumber's,  and  put  wooden  ends  in  it.  Then  I  ham- 
mered one  side  of  it  flat,  so  it  would  lie  straight  with- 
out turning  over,  and  I  cut  a  piece  out  of  the  other 
side,  and  turned  back  the  flap,  and  fastened  a  little 
vial  on  this,  so  that  when  you  filled  it  with  sulphuric 
acid,  and  you  pulled  out  the  cork,  the  acid  would  run 
out  into  the  hole  in  the  pipe.  Then  I  filled  up  the  lead 
pipe  with  about  five  or  six  pounds  of  No.  1  gelatin, 
and  put  some  caps  and  sugar  and  potash  on  top  of 
this  and  opposite  the  hole  in  the  lead  pipe,  so  the 
acid  would  fall  on  them.  Then  I  planned  to  hitch 
a  little  string  to  the  cork  of  the  bottle,  and  fasten 
the  other  end  of  the  string  in  a  screw-eye  in  a  door, 
so  when  you  opened  the  door  it  would  pull  out  the 
cork  and  set  off"  the  bomb. 

I  practised  with  this  while  I  was  making  it  in  my 
room,  so  as  to  see  if  the  cork  would  come  out  of  the 
bottle  instead  of  moving  the  bomb.  I  had  the  dyna- 
mite in,  but  not  the  caps  or  acid,  and  I  tried  it  by 
fastening  a  screw-eye  and  string  on  my  closet  door, 
and  it  worked  all  right.  But  one  day  I  left  the  screw- 
eye  and  the  string  and  the  cork  on  my  door,  and  went 
down-town,  and  forgot  about  it ;  and  when  I  got  home 
160 


HOW    I    BLEW    UP    FRED    BRADLEY 

I  thought  that  was  a  nice  trick  to  leave  that  thing 
there,  for  I  thought  the  woman  that  kept  the  house 
must  have  seen  it  when  she  cleaned  up  mj  room.  But 
she  never  gave  any  sign  she  noticed  it. 

After  that  I  watched  what  time  Mr.  Bradley  usu- 
ally came  down-stairs  in  the  morning,  and  how  soon 
after  he  ate  his  breakfast.  As  I  was  on  a  level,  or  about 
so,  with  their  dining-room  in  my  room,  I  could  look 
out  of  the  window  and  see  them  when  they  were  at 
their  meals.  I  noticed  Mr.  Bradley  came  down-stairs 
soon  after  he  had  finished  breakfast,  and  I  had  to 
guess  that  he  would  be  the  first  one  down-stairs,  so 
as  not  to  catch  any  one  else.  In  order  to  be  sure  he 
would  be  at  home,  I  called  him  up  one  night  on  a 
phone  at  his  residence,  and  told  him  I  was  from  Gold- 
field,  Nev.,  and  had  some  good  mining  property  up 
there,  and  wanted  to  raise  some  money,  or  get  some 
one  with  money  interested,  so  I  could  develop  it ;  and 
that  I  had  been  recommended  to  him,  and  would  like 
to  make  an  appointment  to  meet  him.  He  said  he  would 
be  pleased  to  meet  me  and  talk  the  matter  over  at 
least,  and  could  meet  me  the  next  morning  at  his  office. 
I  asked  him  if  he  could  as  well  make  it  the  morning 
after  that,  and  he  said  he  could — at  nine  o'clock,  I 
think — and  I  told  him  all  right.  I  did  not  want  to 
try  the  bomb  the  next  morning,  as  I  was  not  ready. 

The  next  night  I  went  and  fastened  a  little  screw- 
161 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

eye  in  the  door  of  his  residence,  where  it  opened  out 
of  the  stairway  into  the  archway,  and  the  morning 
after  I  watched  him  from  my  room  when  he  went  into 
breakfast,  and  waited  until  I  thought  he  was  about 
half  through.  Then  I  took  the  bomb  that  I  had  all 
ready,  walked  up  to  his  door  in  the  archway,  laid  it 
down,  and  hooked  a  little  cord  over  the  screw-eye  I 
had  screwed  in  the  door,  and  laid  the  mat  over  the 
bomb.  This  looked  like  a  small  parcel,  as  I  had  it  done 
up  in  a  paper. 

I  had  told  the  lady  where  I  was  rooming,  the  night 
before,  that  I  was  going  away  for  a  while,  and  I  had 
also  taken  my  grip  down-town  the  night  before  and 
left  it  at  a  saloon.  After  I  left  this  bomb,  I  took  a 
car  and  went  down-town,  and  got  another  room  down 
on  Taylor  Street.  After  I  rented  this,  I  thought  I 
would  lie  down  and  sleep  a  while,  as  I  had  not  slept 
much  during  the  night.  A  little  while  afterward  I 
was  awakened  by  some  one  rapping  at  my  door,  and, 
on  asking  what  they  wanted,  was  told  to  open  the 
door  and  I  would  see.  I  told  them  they  had  better  get 
away  from  there,  and  a  little  while  after  they  came 
back.  I  asked  them  who  they  were  and  what  they 
wanted,  and  was  told  it  was  the  sheriff  and  to  open 
the  door.  I  told  them  to  wait  until  I  dressed.  I  thought 
I  had  been  seen  putting  the  bomb  at  Mr.  Bradley's 
door  and  had  been  followed.  I  dressed  and  took  my 
162 


HOW    I    BLEW    UP    FRED    BRADLEY 

gun  in  my  hand  and  opened  the  door,  intending  to 
shoot  if  they  wanted  to  arrest  me.  But  the  landlady 
was  there  when  I  opened  the  door,  and  explained  to 
me  that  the  sheriff  had  seized  her  furniture  and  was 
removing  it.  This  was  such  a  happy  surprise  to  me 
that  I  left  the  house,  and  never  said  a  word  about 
the  room-rent  I  had  paid  her,  nor  the  annoyance  they 
caused  me.  This  always  seemed  a  little  peculiar  to  me, 
that  I  should  happen  in  a  place  of  this  kind  at  such  a 
time. 

I  think  it  was  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
when  I  left  there.  I  bought  the  Evening  Bulletin  to 
see  if  there  was  any  account  of  anything  about  the 
bomb,  and  there  was  not  a  thing.  I  felt  pretty  uneasy, 
as  I  knew  if  it  had  not  been  exploded  it  would  be 
sure  to  be  discovered,  and  I  thought  I  might  have 
been  seen  there,  and  leaving  that  neighborhood  that 
same  morning  I  would  be  apt  to  be  suspected.  I 
thought,  too,  that  when  they  found  the  way  that  bomb 
was  set,  the  lady  where  I  boarded  would  be  sure  to 
remember  the  screw-eye  and  string  that  I  had  left 
fastened  to  my  closet  door. 

I  took  a  walk  over  on  the  west  side,  a  little  out  of 
the  busy  part  of  the  city.  I  did  not  have  money 
enough  to  leave  the  city,  and  felt  pretty  miserable, 
and  the  world  looked  more  desolate  to  me  than  it  ever 
had  before.  I  could  not  see  much  for  me  to  live  for, 
163 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

and  I  thought  everything  was  working  against  me. 
I  could  not  settle  my  mind  on  anything  or  do  any- 
thing. I  was  strong  and  able  to  work,  but  could  not  set 
myself  about  it,  as  my  mind  was  in  such  a  state,  and  I 
came  nearer  ending  all  then  than  I  ever  had  before. 

I  went  into  a  restaurant  to  get  something  to  eat, 
as  I  had  not  eaten  anything  all  that  day.  I  picked  up 
another  evening  newspaper,  the  Evening  Post,  and 
there  was  the  picture  of  the  explosion  and  a  full  ac- 
count of  it.  This  paper  stated  that  Mr.  Bradley  would 
probably  die,  or  at  least  lose  his  hearing  and  eyesight. 
They  gave  as  the  cause  of  the  explosion  leaking  gas- 
pipes  and  fixtures,  and  said  the  gas  had  escaped  and 
filled  the  hall  and  the  stairway  entrance  to  Mr.  Brad- 
ley's  apartment,  and  as  he  lit  his  cigar  coming  down 
the  stairway  the  gas  exploded.  When  Mr.  Bradley 
opened  the  door,  practically  the  whole  stairway  and 
entrance  into  the  archway  was  blown  out,  and  Mr. 
Bradley  was  thrown  out  onto  the  sidewalk  with  the 
debris,  and  the  flat  was  more  or  less  shattered  from 
one  end  to  the  other,  and  the  glass  was  broken  across 
the  street  and  for  some  distance  away.  It  seems  now 
to  me  a  horrible  thing  to  say,  but  I  felt  better  after 
reading  this,  for  I  knew  I  could  now  get  a  good  piece 
of  money  without  any  trouble,  as  Haywood  and  Pet- 
tibone  would  be  so  well  pleased. 

I  sent  Pettibone  a  copy  of  this  paper  and  told  him 
164 


HOW    I    BLEW    UP    FRED    BRADLEY 

to  wire  me  some  money  at  once,  and  he  did  so  in  a 
few  days.  After  about  a  week  I  went  up  and  looked 
at  Mr.  Bradley's  place,  and  saw  Mr.  Guibinni,  the 
grocer  and  saloon-man.  He  told  me  they  thought  Mr. 
Bradley  would  lose  his  eyesight.  He  said  he  did  not 
believe  that  gas  caused  the  explosion,  himself — he 
thought  it  was  a  bomb;  but  he  said  Mrs.  Bradley 
would  not  hear  to  such  a  thing,  and  said  she  had 
smelled  gas  escaping  for  some  time.  The  owners  of  the 
property  sued  the  gas  company,  and  were  awarded 
$10,000  damages,  and  when  this  was  carried  to  the 
Supreme  Court,  they  affirmed  the  lower  court. 

I  stayed  in  San  Francisco  two  or  three  weeks  after 
the  explosion,  and  thought  I  would  take  a  trip  back 
to  Denver.  I  went  and  got  a  suit  of  soldier's  uniform, 
and  wore  that  to  Denver  as  a  disguise.  I  set  off  the 
bomb  at  Mr.  Bradley's  house  November  17th,  and  I 
got  back  to  Denver  about  the  first  part  of  December, 
1904.  I  went  to  a  rooming-house,  and  got  a  room 
a  little  way  from  Pettibone's  store,  and  then  tele- 
phoned him  to  come  over,  and  a  few  minutes  after 
he  and  Steve  Adams  came.  We  talked  a  little  while 
there,  and  I  told  them  if  Mr.  Bradley  did  not  die, 
he  was  at  least  maimed  for  life,  and  would  be  deaf 
and  blind.  Pettibone  was  well  pleased  with  this  news, 
but  said  it  was  hard  luck  that  it  did  not  kill  him. 
Really,  Mr.  Bradley  got  well  after  a  while,  and  is 
165 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

neither  deaf  nor  blind;  but  I  thought  then  he  was 
very  badly  hurt. 

Adams  had  come  back  in  September,  and  he  and  his 
wife  were  keeping  house  in  Denver  then,  and  Steve 
asked  me  to  go  home  with  him.  I  went  with  him,  and 
Billy  Aikman  was  stopping  with  them,  and  Billy 
Easterly  had  been  there  some.  I  asked  Pettibone  why 
he  did  not  send  me  the  money  when  I  asked  for  it, 
and  what  he  meant  by  saying  to  call  it  off.  He  then 
told  me  the  time  they  had  had  with  Johnnie  Neville 
after  he  had  been  released  from  jail  in  Cripple  Creek. 
He  came  to  Denver  and  told  them  he  knew  all  about 
their  work,  and  especially  the  Independence  depot, 
and  that  I  had  told  him  they  hired  me  to  do  it,  and 
if  they  did  not  give  him  $1,200  he  was  going  to  ex- 
pose them.  Pettibone  said  for  a  while  he  had  them 
all  up  a  tree,  and  they  had  it  all  planned  to  kill  him 
if  he  kept  on.  He  said  that  Moyer  was  especially  ex- 
cited over  it.  But  finally  they  scared  Neville  off  by 
springing  on  him  how  he  set  fire  to  his  saloon,  and 
saying  they  would  tell  the  police,  and  then  he  quit 
and  left  the  country  and  went  to  Goldfield,  Nev. 


166 


CHAPTER    THIRTEEN 

OUR  FIBST  BOMB  FOB  GOVERNOR  PEABODT,  AND  OTHER 
BOMBS    FOB    STREET    WORK 

I    KEPT  pretty  close  for  a  time  after  arriving  in 
Denver.  I  lived  with  Adams  for  a  while,  and  I 
did  not  go  out  much  except  at  night.  I  went 
over  to  Haywood's  residence  at  night,  and  talked  to 
him  once  in  a  while.  He  said  he  was  better  pleased 
to  have  Mr.  Bradley  maimed  the  way  he  was  than  to 
have  him  killed  outright,  for  he  was  a  living  example, 
and  he  said  Bradley  knew  himself  where  this  came 
from  all  right.  I  think  he  said  he  would  write  and  tell 
him  sometime  how  it  happened.  I  got  money  any  time 
I  wanted  it;  Haywood  gave  it  to  Pettibone,  and  he 
gave  it  to  me,  and  they  wanted  us  to  work  on  Judge 
Gabbert  and  see  if  we  could  not  bump  him  off,  as 
they  were  very  bitter  against  him — especially  Moyer. 
Judge   Gabbert   was   chief   justice  of   the   Supreme 
Court,  and  had  decided  against  Moyer  when  they 
brought  him  to  Denver  from  Telluride  on  a  writ  of 
habeas  corpus,  when  he  was  in  the  hands  of  the  militia. 
So  Adams  and  I  strolled  around  Judge  Gabbert's 
167 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

residence  some  at  night.  They  kept  the  blinds  of  the 
windows  pretty  close,  and  we  could  never  see  him  at 
night,  but  would  often  see  him  in  the  morning  or  at 
noon  while  he  was  going  or  coming  from  the  State 
Capitol,  as  he  usually  walked  back  and  forth.  The 
weather  was  cold  and  stormy  part  of  the  time,  and  we 
did  not  make  any  great  effort  to  get  him.  We  had 
plenty  of  money  and  lived  good,  and  had  plenty  of 
beer  to  drink,  and  took  things  easy. 

Haywood  also  wanted  us  to  watch  Mr.  Hearne, 
manager  of  the  Colorado  Fuel  and  Iron  Company. 
He  said  they  had  sent  him  out  there  from  Pennsyl- 
vania to  fix  the  legislature,  as  he  had  done  there,  and 
that  he  was  a  bitter  enemy  to  organized  labor.  Adams 
and  I  strolled  around  his  residence  some,  but  did  not 
make  much  of  an  effort  to  do  anything  to  him.  If  we 
had  seen  him  at  night  when  we  were  around  there,  we 
would  have  shot  him,  no  doubt,  if  it  had  looked  favor- 
able for  us  to  get  away. 

This  was  the  winter  they  had  such  a  wrangle  over 
the  governorship,  and  there  was  some  doubt  about 
them  seating  Adams,  the  Democratic  candidate,  who 
was  elected  by  12,000  majority  for  governor  over 
Peabody,  but  the  Republicans  were  crying  fraud. 
Haywood  told  us  then  to  keep  quiet  and  not  pull  off 
anything  until  we  got  Adams  seated  as  governor, 
for  if  we  bumped  Judge  Gabbert  off  then,  it  might 
168 


FIRST    BOMB    FOR   GOVERNOR    PEABODY 

hurt  his  chances  for  being  seated.  But  when  it  looked 
almost  sure  that  Peabody  would  be  seated  again,  he 
wanted  us  to  try  and  get  him  then.  But  they  seated 
Adams,  and  then  Peabody  began  proceedings  to  oust 
him,  charging  fraud  in  his  election,  and  it  came  to  a 
legislature  investigation.  When  it  looked  like  the 
legislature  was  going  to  seat  Peabody  and  throw 
Adams  out,  Pettibone  came  to  us,  and  wanted  us 
to  go  after  Peabody  again  and  try  hard  to  get  him, 
so  we  would  not  have  him  for  governor  again. 

We  started  in  to  watch  Peabody  nights,  and  car- 
ried our  shot-guns  part  of  the  time,  but  we  imagined 
he  had  guards  around  his  residence  at  night,  and  once 
or  twice  we  were  followed,  and  we  concluded  we  would 
not  try  it  at  night  at  his  residence.  We  thought  of 
lying  up  the  street  and  waiting  for  his  carriage,  but 
it  was  too  cold  to  lay  around  and  wait  long,  and  then, 
we  had  to  be  sure  he  was  in  it ;  sometimes  there  were 
only  women  in  it.  But  Peabody  always  walked  up  to 
the  Capitol  in  the  morning  while  he  was  governor. 

There  came  about  six  inches  of  snow  one  night, 
and  it  drifted  up  against  the  curbstone  in  some  places, 
and  was  deeper  there  than  in  the  streets.  We  made  a 
big  bomb  and  put  about  twenty-five  pounds  of  dy- 
namite in  it,  and  we  stretched  a  wire  from  Grant 
Avenue  to  Logan  on  Thirteenth  Avenue.  This  bomb 
was  shaped  a  good  deal  like  the  one  I  made  for  Brad- 
169 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

ley  in  San  Francisco,  only  it  was  a  good  deal  bigger, 
and  made  in  a  lead  case  that  Steve  Adams  got  fixed 
at  a  plumber's,  instead  of  a  lead  pipe.  Mr.  Peabody 
usually  walked  up  Grant  Avenue  to  the  Capitol  be- 
tween nine  and  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  we  laid 
this  wire  in  the  evening  before  the  streets  were  empty, 
and  covered  it  up  with  snow,  and  then  came  back  a 
little  before  daybreak,  and  looked  again  to  see  if  we 
had  it  covered  up  well.  There  was  a  little  space  be- 
tween the  curbstone  and  street  for  the  water  to  run 
through  at  the  crossings,  and  we  dug  the  snow  out 
of  this  enough  to  lay  the  bomb  in. 

We  had  Billy  Aikman  get  a  horse  and  buggy  and 
drive  Adams  and  me  over  there  about  eight  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  I  got  out  a  block  or  so  away  from  the 
place,  and  walked  over  there,  and  when  there  were 
no  people  in  sight  I  motioned  to  them,  and  they  drove 
up  close  as  though  they  were  talking  to  me,  and  they 
handed  me  the  bomb,  which  we  had  done  up  in  a  cloth. 
There  was  a  bottle  of  acid  on  top  of  it,  with  a  cork 
that  had  a  wire  through  it,  with  a  hook  on  the  end ; 
so  all  I  had  to  do  was  to  loop  the  other  wire  we  had 
laid  in  the  night  over  this  hook,  and  kick  a  little  snow 
over  it.  This  only  took  a  minute  or  so,  and  then  Billy 
drove  on  and  waited  two  or  three  blocks  away  with 
the  rig.  We  had  two  rifles  and  a  shot-gun  in  the  rig, 
and  plenty  of  ammunition,  and  intended  to  fight  it 
170 


FIRST  BOMB  FOR  GOVERNOR  PEABODY 

out  as  long  as  we  lasted,  if  we  got  cornered;  for,  of 
course,  there  is  more  danger  in  your  "  get-away  " 
with  a  bomb  like  this  than  there  is  with  one  that  sets 
itself  off  like  the  one  I  had  used  with  Bradley.  Adams 
and  I  stayed  on  the  street  where  we  could  see  the 
governor  and  his  body-guard  when  they  came  along. 
We  had  seen  them  so  often,  we  could  tell  them  more 
than  a  block  away. 

When  we  saw  them  coming,  we  went  to  the  other 
end  of  the  wire  and  waited  until  they  were  just  step- 
ping over  the  bomb,  and  then  we  intended  to  jerk 
this  wire,  and  that  would  jerk  the  cork  out  of  the 
little  bottle  of  acid,  when  the  bomb  would  explode 
instantly.  There  was  an  alley  in  the  middle  of  the 
block,  and  while  we  were  at  the  end  of  the  wire,  a 
large  coal  wagon  came  out  of  this  and  drove  up  to- 
ward us.  This  wagon  was  nearly  opposite  us  when 
another  came  out,  and  there  seemed  to  be  about  a 
dozen  people  coming  along  right  close,  and  I  think 
the  last  wagon  was  close  behind  the  first,  when  the 
governor  came  over  the  bomb.  So  we  did  not  dare  to 
pull  the  wire  until  he  was  too  far  beyond  it  to  be 
sure  of  getting  him.  We  took  the  bomb  up  and  car- 
ried it  over  to  the  rig,  and  drove  back  and  got  hold 
of  one  end  of  the  wire,  and  pulled  it  in  the  buggy  and 
coiled  it  up.  We  thought  we  would  try  it  again  an- 
other morning,  but  it  got  warm  and  melted  the  snow, 
171 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

and  what  was  left  was  hard,  so  that  we  could  not 
cover  up  our  wire.  We  then  tried  digging  into  the 
sidewalk  near  his  house,  or  at  the  edge  of  the  walk ; 
but  the  ground  was  frozen  too  hard.  One  night  we 
thought  a  watchman  was  after  us,  and  I  threw  away 
the  spade  I  was  carrying  wrapped  up  in  a  paper,  and 
went  home. 

A  little  while  after  we  made  this  attempt  with  the 
bomb,  Mr.  Peabody  moved  his  offices  down  in  the 
Jackson  Block,  and  did  not  walk  up  Grant  Avenue 
as  usual.  Hay  wood  said  then  that  he  thought  we  might 
set  a  bomb  in  under  his  desk,  so  that  when  he  opened 
the  desk  it  would  explode  it.  He  asked  me  what  I 
thought  about  it.  I  told  him  we  could  if  we  knew  for 
sure  his  desk,  and  that  no  one  would  open  it  but  him ; 
and  he  said  he  thought  perhaps  Peabody  had  a  pri- 
vate desk,  and  that  he  would  find  out.  He  said  the 
Federation  wanted  to  move  their  offices,  and  he  could 
easily  go  up  in  the  Jackson  Block  looking  for  a 
location,  and  find  out  where  Peabody's  office  was.  But 
he  never  did,  and  we  never  made  any  further  attempt 
on  Mr.  Peabody's  life  in  Denver. 

As  the  legislature  investigation  proceeded,  it  was 
thought  until  the  very  last  that  Adams  would  hold 
his  seat;  but  they  made  a  compromise  to  seat  Pea- 
body,  with  the  understanding  he  was  to  resign  in 
twenty-four  hours,  and  the  committee  had  his  resig- 
172 


FIRST  BOMB  FOR  GOVERNOR  PEABODY 

nation  before  they  voted  to  seat  him.  Then  the  office 
went  to  Jesse  McDonald,  the  Republican  lieutenant- 
governor,  and  Haywood  said  we  need  not  bother  with 
Peabody  for  the  present;  that  we  could  go  down  to 
Canon  City  and  get  him  any  time. 

Then  they  wanted  us  to  get  some  of  the  Supreme 
Court  justices.  Judge  Goddard  had  been  appointed 
to  the  Supreme  Court  by  Governor  Peabody  before  he 
retired.  They  were  very  bitter  against  Judge  God- 
dard, as  they  said  he  had  written  up  most  of  the 
opinion  in  the  Moyer  habeas  corpus  case,  and  had 
been  instrumental  in  declaring  unconstitutional  the 
eight-hour  law  that  had  been  passed  by  the  legislature 
a  few  years  previous,  when  he  was  on  the  Supreme 
bench  before;  and  that  he  and  Frank  Hearne,  the 
Colorado  Fuel  and  Iron  Company  manager,  had  influ- 
enced the  Supreme  Court  in  their  decisions  after  he 
had  got  out.  Haywood  wanted  us  to  see  if  we  could 
not  make  a  bomb  that  we  could  throw  or  drop  out 
of  a  window.  He  thought  we  could  make  one  and 
cover  it  with  a  big  rubber  ball.  He  said  that  Mr. 
David  Moffat  stopped  at  the  Denver  Club  a  good  deal, 
and  walked  between  his  bank  and  there,  and  Haywood 
thought  if  we  had  a  bomb  we  could  drop  or  throw 
out  of  a  window,  that  we  could  get  a  room  along  the 
street,  and  when  Mr.  Moffat  came  along,  we  could 
drop  it  out  of  a  window  close  to  him,  and  get  away. 
173 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

We  had  moved  over  near  Globeville  in  January, 
1905,  close  to  Max  Malich,  and  Max  wanted  us  to 
blow  up  the  Globeville  smelter  boarding-house.  Malich 
was  a  leader  among  the  Austrian  workmen  at  the 
smelter.  He  kept  a  grocery  store  and  a  saloon,  and 
they  called  him  the  King  of  Globeville.  He  had  been 
Mayor  of  the  town,  and  he  was  strong  in  politics 
because  'most  all  the  Austrians  would  do  what  he 
wanted  them  to — though  after  that  they  got  on  to 
him,  and  he  couldn't  handle  them  so  well.  He  belonged 
to  the  smelter-men's  union,  and  they  met  in  his  hall, 
and,  though  he  wasn't  an  officer,  the  Austrians  and 
others  in  the  union  did  about  what  he  said  at  that 
time. 

There  had  been  a  strike  at  this  Globeville  smelter 
for  nearly  two  years  then,  and  their  union  was  affil- 
iated with  the  Western  Federation  of  Miners.  The 
smelters  were  working  all  non-union  men,  and  I  think 
two  or  three  hundred  stopped  in  this  boarding-house. 
Max  said  there  was  not  much  trouble  to  get  in  the 
cellar  or  up  in  the  hall,  as  things  had  been  quiet  for 
some  time,  and  they  did  not  guard  it  very  close.  He 
had  a  man  there  that  had  boarded  there  before  the 
strike,  and  knew  the  place  well,  and  he  said  he  would 
help  us.  We  wanted  some  No.  1  powder,  anyway, 
to  make  some  bombs,  or  to  experiment  with  making 
them.  So  we  found  out  where  the  magazines  were,  and 
174 


FIRST   BOMB   FOR   GOVERNOR   PEABODY 

concluded  to  go  out  there  and  get  what  dynamite  we 
wanted. 

Adams  and  I  started  a  little  before  dark  one  Satur- 
day, and  walked  out  to  the  magazines.  There  were  a 
number  of  magazines  out  there  on  the  prairie,  and  as 
soon  as  it  was  dark,  we  pried  off  a  lock  from  one  of 
them,  and  carried  600  pounds  of  powder  out  a  little 
way  from  the  magazine.  Then  we  pried  the  lock  off 
another  little  magazine,  and  got  about  fifteen  boxes  of 
giant-caps.  Then  Joe  Mehalich  came  with  the  rig,  and 
we  loaded  it  all  into  the  wagon,  and  brought  it  to 
where  we  lived,  near  Globeville,  and  buried  it  in  the 
cellar. 

When  we  told  Haywood  and  Moyer  that  Max 
wanted  us  to  blow  up  this  boarding-house,  they  said 
not  to  do  it,  and  we  thought  no  more  about  it.  But 
we  now  had  powder  to  practise  making  bombs  to 
throw.  We  made  these  bombs  by  taking  plaster-Paris 
and  making  a  little  ball.  We  stuck  this  full  of  giant- 
caps,  and  let  it  get  hard,  and  then  stuck  a  wire  nail 
in  each  of  these  caps,  point  inward;  and  shived  the 
nail  up  with  slivers  of  wood,  so  as  not  to  let  the  nail 
press  upon  the  powder  in  the  caps.  But  a  little  jar, 
like  throwing  it  against  anything,  would  drive  the 
nail  into  the  powder,  which  is  in  the  bottom  of  the 
giant-cap,  and  set  it  off.  After  we  made  this  frame 
with  the  plaster-Paris,  giant-caps,  and  nails,  we  took 
175 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

a  large  rubber  ball,  cut  it  open,  and  slipped  it  around 
the  outside  of  the  nails.  Then  we  filled  it  with  dyna- 
mite, and  sewed  up  the  rubber.  We  tried  two  or  three 
of  these  throwing-bombs,  and  they  exploded  instantly 
when  they  were  thrown  and  hit  anything  hard.  Adams 
and  I  took  one  of  them  out  near  Riverside  Cemetery, 
and  Steve  threw  it  up  against  a  big  cottonwood  tree 
that  was  there,  and  it  exploded  and  tore  out  a  big 
hole  in  the  trunk.  Steve  was  back  of  another  tree  when 
he  threw  it,  but  it  shook  him  up  badly  when  it  went 
off,  and  the  nails  and  caps  flew  everywhere.  This  one 
must  have  weighed  four  or  five  pounds. 

We  told  Haywood  and  Pettibone  then  that  we  could 
make  thsse  work  all  right,  but  they  did  not  want  us 
to  use  them  just  then,  but  to  see  if  we  could  not  shoot 
Judge  Goddard  through  the  window  of  his  residence, 
as  he  lived  pretty  well  out,  and  they  said  the  police 
were  not  often  around  there.  We  had  long  overcoats, 
and  each  carried  a  sawed-off  pump  shot-gun  hung 
at  our  sides  under  our  arms  by  a  shoulder-strap.  We 
worked  awhile,  but  never  saw  him  but  once,  and  then 
we  thought  we  would  wait  until  it  was  a  little  later, 
as  it  was  Sunday  night,  and  there  were  quite  a  num- 
ber of  people  on  the  street;  but  we  could  never  see 
him  again ;  we  could  see  some  of  the  rest  of  the  family, 
as  they  hardly  ever  pulled  the  blinds  clear  down,  and 
the  house  was  built  up  flush  with  the  sidewalk  on  one 
176 


FIRST  BOMB  FOR  GOVERNOR  PEABODY 

side,  and  only  a  few  feet  back  on  the  other,  for  it  was 
on  the  corner  of  the  street.  Mrs.  Adams  went  with 
Steve  and  me  sometimes  for  a  bluff,  as  we  thought  the 
police  were  watching  sometimes.  There  had  been  a 
drug  store  held  up  about  this  time  not  far  from  there, 
and  there  were  extra  police  around,  but  we  thought 
they  wouldn't  be  so  likely  to  suspect  us  with  a  woman 
along. 

Sometime  the  last  of  January,  Adams  had  gone 
down-town  and  got  drunk,  and  was  put  in  jail  for 
stealing  a  bicycle.  We  did  not  know  where  he  was 
for  a  week  or  more,  and  looked  all  over  for  him,  and 
thought  some  one  had  killed  him,  for  he  had  had  a 
fight  with  a  man  just  before  that.  After  he  got  out 
and  came  home,  we  gave  him  a  good  lecture,  but  it 
did  not  do  much  good,  as  he  got  drunk  again  some 
little  time  after,  and  had  to  be  helped  home.  Haywood 
and  Pettibone  did  not  like  the  looks  of  this,  and  we 
didn't  know  but  we  had  better  get  rid  of  Adams,  as 
he  knew  too  much  to  be  around  drunk  that  way. 

I  left  Adams's  house  about  the  last  of  March,  and 
got  a  room  only  two  blocks  from  Judge  Goddard's 
residence,  so  I  could  watch  him.  We  could  always  see 
him  leave  on  the  car  in  the  morning  and  go  down, 
but  could  never  see  him  at  night.  Soon  after  I  quit 
living  with  Adams,  he  had  some  dispute  with  Hay- 
wood  and  Pettibone,  and  told  me  they  would  not  give 
177 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

him  money  enough,  or  only  a  few  dollars  at  a  time, 
and  he  was  angry  at  me  and  blamed  me,  too.  I  told 
him  there  must  be  some  mistake  about  it,  and  that 
he  had  no  reason  to  blame  me,  and  I  told  him  I  was 
going  away,  and  that  he  and  Joe  Mehalich  could 
work  together  after  that,  as  they  chummed  together, 
and  the  women  visited  back  and  forth.  I  told  him  I 
was  going  down  to  Canon  City  or  Colorado  Springs 
to  get  MacNeill  or  Peabody.  He  said  all  right,  he 
would  go  with  me;  but  I  didn't  encourage  this,  as  I 
wanted  to  get  rid  of  him. 

Steve  went  down  to  get  some  money,  and  Pettibone 
gave  me  a  few  dollars,  and  said  that  was  all  he  had 
left  out  of  the  last  Hay  wood  gave  him.  Adams  sent 
Pettibone  down  to  Haywood's  office  to  get  some  more, 
and  Hay  wood  would  not  give  it  to  him.  He  told 
Pettibone  he  had  given  Mrs.  Adams,  I  think,  $40 
the  day  before,  and  that  ought  to  be  enough  for  a 
while.  Adams  went  down  and  saw  Hay  wood,  and  they 
had  some  words,  and  Hay  wood  did  not  give  him  any 
money,  and  when  I  saw  Adams  he  would  hardly  speak 
to  me.  I  told  him  we  were  the  last  ones  that  ought  to 
have  any  trouble,  and  that  he  had  no  reason  to  feel 
hard  at  me.  He  said  they  had  used  him  dirty  mean, 
and  that  he  was  through  with  them.  I  told  him  it  was 
his  fault — that  he  had  no  business  getting  drunk 
so  much,  and  that  was  the  reason  I  quit  him,  and 
178 


FIRST   BOMB    FOR   GOVERNOR    PEABODY 

that  they  were  afraid  to  give  him  much  money  at  a 
time  for  fear  he  would  be  drunk.  He  said  they  would 
use  me  the  same  when  they  got  through  with  me.  I 
told  him  they  wouldn't,  for  I  wouldn't  stand  for  it — 
not  if  I  was  where  I  could  get  to  them. 

I  would  say  that  Haywood  was  always  very  close 
and  stingy  with  the  money  for  this  work,  and  would 
always  be  putting  you  off  and  saying  he  would  pay 
you  next  week,  and  we  had  to  look  to  Pettibone  to  get 
it  for  us.  But  we  could  always  get  it  from  Pettibone 
all  right,  as  he  would  go  down  and  tell  Haywood 
he  had  got  to  have  it,  and  Haywood  would  give  it 
to  him.  But,  of  course,  with  Steve  getting  drunk 
the  way  he  did,  none  of  us  wanted  to  do  any  business 
with  him,  and,  in  fact,  wanted  to  get  him  out  of  the 
country. 

Adams  and  Joe  Mehalich  got  ready  to  go  away 
then,  and  I  went  over  to  Globeville  to  see  them  the 
day  they  left,  as  I  did  not  want  them  to  leave  feel- 
ing hard  toward  me,  if  I  could  help  it.  I  did  not  ask 
them  where  they  were  going,  as  they  did  not  tell  me, 
but  I  called  Adams  to  one  side  and  had  a  little  talk 
with  him,  and  told  him  I  was  not  to  blame,  and  he  had 
not  ought  to  have  any  hard  feelings  toward  me.  He 
said  he  felt  sore  at  everybody,  and  that  perhaps  he 
had  no  reason  to  feel  hard  toward  me,  but  that  he  had 
thought  I  had  run  him  down  to  Haywood.  I  told  him 
179 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

that  Haywood  knew  about  him  getting  drunk  without 
my  telling  him. 

Adams  said  they  were  going  to  beat  their  way,  as 
they  had  no  money  to  pay  their  fare.  I  only  had  a 
little  money  with  me,  but  I  borrowed  $20  from  Max 
Malich  and  gave  it  to  him,  and  I  told  Max  to  give 
the  women  what  they  wanted  to  live  on  from  his  gro- 
cery store,  and  send  the  bill  to  Haywood  and  make 
him  pay  it.  It  was  some  time  in  April,  1905, 1  think, 
that  they  went  away.  I  found  out  later  they  went 
to  Park  City,  Utah,  and  afterward  went  to  eastern 
Oregon  on  a  land  claim.  But  that  was  the  last  time 
I  saw  Steve  until  they  arrested  him  in  Oregon  in 
February,  1906,  and  brought  him  to  Boise,  Idaho.  I 
paid  Max  Malich  the  $20  back  the  next  day. 


180 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

OUR  FURTHER  PLANS  FOR  GOVERNOR  PEABODY  AND 
HOW  I  SET  BOMBS  FOR  JUDGES  GODDARD  AND 
GABBERT 

I  WAS  down  in  Pettibone's  store  a  few  days  after 
this,  and  a  man  came  in  that  had  worked  for  him 
a  good  deal,  and  said  he  had  a  better  graft  now 
— that  he  had  been  out  writing  life-insurance,  and  had 
made  about  $800  in  a  month.  Pettibone  wanted  me  to 
go  and  get  a  contract,  and  that  would  be  a  good  bluff 
if  I  wanted  to  go  to  any  small  place.  As  they  wanted 
me  to  go  to  Canon  City  and  get  Peabody,  I  thought 
the  insurance  scheme  would  be  good,  and  then  I 
thought  I  could  make  good  at  it,  too.  So  I  went  down 
to  the  Mutual  Life  office  and  had  a  talk  with  John  L. 
Stearns,  the  manager  for  Colorado. 

He  wanted  me  to  give  him  some  references,  and  I 
gave  him  Pettibone,  Horace  Hawkins,  of  the  law  firm 
of  Richardson  &  Hawkins,  James  J.  Sullivan  and 
Henry  Cohen,  the  law  firm,  and  John  Sullivan,  presi- 
dent of  the  State  Federation  of  Labor.  I  knew  Horace 
Hawkins  pretty  well,  as  he  was  the  attorney  that  de- 
181 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

fended  the  boys  at  Cripple  Creek.  I  went  and  saw  him, 
and  told  him  I  wanted  to  get  a  contract  with  the 
Mutual  Life-Insurance  Company  to  write  insurance, 
but  did  not  want  to  give  them  my  own  name.  I  told  him 
my  name  was  Thomas  Hogan,  and  I  said  I  had  given 
him  as  reference,  and  would  like  him  to  give  me  a 
send-off,  and  he  said  he  would.  I  saw  John  Sullivan 
and  told  him,  and  Pettibone  saw  James  J.  Sullivan 
and  Henry  Cohen.  I  was  only  slightly  acquainted  with 
the  latter  two,  and  that  through  Pettibone,  as  they 
were  great  friends  of  his.  Mr.  Stearns  wrote  to  these 
in  regard  to  me,  and  in  a  couple  of  days  after  he  wrote 
me  to  come  down  to  his  office.  I  went  down,  and  he 
said  my  references  could  not  be  better,  and  he  would 
make  a  contract  with  me,  and  he  fixed  it  up  right 
there  and  advanced  me  $25  then,  and  a  little  later 
$25  more.  I  told  him  I  would  go  to  the  southern  part 
of  the  State,  and  would  start  in  at  Canon  City  and 
Florence. 

A  few  days  later  I  went  to  Canon  City,  and  did 
start  in  to  talk  life-insurance,  and  canvassed  some. 
But  I  could  no  more  get  my  mind  on  insurance  than 
I  could  fly.  I  had  located  Mr.  Peabody's  residence, 
and  noticed  he  had  no  guard  around  it  at  night,  but 
went  around  the  same  as  any  private  citizen,  and 
I  discovered  he  usually  sat  near  a  window  on  one 
side  of  his  house  next  to  an  open  lot  at  night,  and 
182 


OUR  FURTHER  PLANS  FOR  PEABODY 

did  not  pull  the  blind  clear  down.  At  first  I  stopped  at 
the  hotel,  but  later  I  got  a  room  only  about  a  block 
away  from  Mr.  Peabody's  residence,  on  the  same 
street,  so  I  could  watch  him.  Then  I  figured  out  a 
plan  to  make  a  big  bomb,  and  fix  it  to  go  off  with 
an  alarm-clock.  I  thought  I  could  lay  this  on  the 
window-sill  where  he  sat,  and  set  the  alarm-clock  to 
go  off  in  a  few  minutes,  and  I  could  have  time  to  go 
to  a  saloon,  and  be  there  when  the  bomb  exploded, 
and  take  a  chance  of  Mr.  Peabody  moving  away  from 
the  window  in  the  mean  time. 

I  think  I  stayed  there  about  a  week,  and  on  Satur- 
day I  told  the  old  lady  where  I  roomed  that  I  was 
going  to  Denver  to  stay  over  Sunday,  but  would  keep 
my  room  and  would  be  back  the  first  of  the  week. 
I  took  the  train  and  went  to  Denver,  and  told  them 
what  I  was  going  to  do,  and  I  went  over  to  Max 
Malich,  and  got  fifty  pounds  of  No.  1  powder  and 
a  box  of  giant-caps.  This  was  the  powder  we  took 
from  the  magazine,  and  Adams  and  Mehalich  sold  it 
or  gave  it  to  Max,  and  he  had  it  buried  in  his  drive- 
shed.  I  put  this  in  a  suit-case  and  brought  it  over  to 
Pettibone's  store.  I  went  to  a  plumbing  shop  in  Den- 
ver, and  told  them  I  wanted  a  lead  bucket  made  about 
eight  or  nine  inches  across  by  fourteen  inches  high. 
I  told  the  plumber  I  wanted  it  for  a  cactus-plant,  so 
I  could  bore  holes  in  it  to  let  the  flowers  come  through. 
183 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

He  made  this  for  me,  and  put  a  bottom  in  one  end 
of  it,  and  I  hammered  it  flat  on  one  side,  so  it  would 
lay  on  a  window-sill,  and  packed  this  as  full  of  powder 
as  I  could,  and  fitted  a  wooden  end  on  the  top,  and 
hammered  the  lead  over  it,  so  it  would  not  come  out. 
I  cut  a  hole  in  the  top  side  of  it  and  took  out  a  little 
powder,  and  filled  this  space  full  of  giant-caps,  and 
wired  an  alarm-clock  on  the  end  of  the  bomb,  and 
took  off  the  alarm-bell.  Then  I  had  a  little  bottle  of 
acid,  so  I  could  wire  it  over  the  giant-caps,  and  set 
the  alarm,  and  had  a  fine  wire  so  it  would  wind  up 
around  the  key  which  wound  up  the  alarm,  so  that 
when  the  alarm  went  off,  and  this  key  started  turning, 
it  would  pull  the  cork  out  of  the  bottle  and  let  the 
acid  run  on  the  giant-caps.  I  fixed  this  up  later,  after 
I  went  back  to  Canon  City.  Except  for  the  clock,  it 
wasn't  fixed  much  different  from  the  bomb  I  used 
when  I  was  after  Bradley  in  San  Francisco,  only  it 
was  a  great  deal  bigger,  and  was  made  in  this  lead 
case  instead  of  a  pipe.  There  was  about  twenty-five 
pounds  of  dynamite  in  this,  and  if  it  had  gone  off,  I 
suppose  it  would  have  blown  that  side  of  the  house 
all  to  pieces,  as  Pettibone  and  I  figured  we  ought  not 
to  take  any  chances  of  missing  Peabody  when  I  set 
this  off. 

When  I  was  in  Denver  this  time,  I  stopped  at  the 
Belmont  Hotel.  I  was  well  acquainted  there,  and  they 
184 


OUR   FURTHER   PLANS    FOR   PEABODY 

wanted  to  know  what  I  was  doing,  etc.  I  told  them  I 
was  writing  life-insurance.  Some  of  them  wanted  to 
know  how  I  was  making  it,  and  I  told  them  I  was 
making  all  kinds  of  money ;  and  a  man  that  I  had  met 
there  a  great  deal,  and  a  great  friend  of  Pettibone's, 
said  he  thought  he  would  try  that,  too,  as  he  had 
written  insurance  before.  His  name  was  William  J. 
Vaughan.  He  went  right  down  and  saw  Mr.  Stearns, 
and  got  a  contract  in  a  day  or  two.  I  left  in  the  mean 
time,  and  took  my  bomb  and  went  back  to  Canon 
City.  I  told  Vaughan  he  could  come  down  there,  if 
he  liked ;  that  there  was  room  enough  for  both  of  us. 
After  I  got  back  to  Canon  City,  Mr.  Peabody 
started  to  repair  his  house,  and  I  could  not  see  him 
at  the  window ;  and  Vaughan  came  there  in  the  mean 
time,  and  I  thought  if  he  did  room  with  me  that  would 
make  it  all  the  better  for  me,  for,  if  I  could  see  Mr. 
Peabody  at  this  window,  I  could  make  an  excuse  to 
go  out,  and  not  be  gone  over  five  minutes,  and 
Vaughan  would  not  notice  it.  I  used  to  keep  the  little 
alarm-clock  running,  and  he  asked  me  one  day  where 
that  clock  was  ticking.  I  told  him  it  was  a  bomb  I 
had  in  my  grip,  and  he  half  believed  it.  Mr.  Peabody 
had  his  house  all  torn  up,  and  I  could  not  see  him, 
and  Vaughan  did  not  write  any  insurance,  and  also 
knew  that  I  did  not  either,  and  he  felt  pretty  well  dis- 
couraged and  his  money  got  short.  I  gave  him  some 
185 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

money  and  told  him  to  brace  up.  He  wanted  me  to  go 
down  in  the  Arkansas  Valley  with  him,  and  probably 
we  would  do  better  down  there  among  the  farmers, 
and  I  thought  that  would  be  a  good  way  to  get  rid 
of  him  and  I  could  come  back  again.  We  got  ready, 
and  I  left  my  suit-case  with  the  old  lady,  and  set  it 
away  under  a  table  where  she  said  she  would  have  no 
occasion  to  move  it.  I  told  her  I  had  it  full  of  insurance 
papers  for  advertising.  I  thought  I  would  be  gone 
only  a  few  days,  and  it  was  so  heavy  I  did  not  take  it 
with  me.  It  must  have  weighed  close  to  fifty  pounds. 

Vaughan  and  I  left  and  went  to  Rocky  Ford,  about 
100  miles  or  so  away  in  Arkansas  Valley,  and  got  a 
rig  and  started  out  to  canvass  insurance.  We  had 
been  out  only  a  day  or  so  before  we  met  a  man  writing 
hail-insurance — that  is,  insuring  a  farmer's  crop 
against  hail.  A  man  named  Peterson,  who  was  general 
agent  of  the  company,  was  in  Rocky  Ford,  and  offered 
us  a  good  thing  to  go  to  work  for  him,  and  we  took 
him  up.  We  went  down  to  Las  Animas,  which  is  about 
thirty  miles  from  Rocky  Ford,  and  we  worked  there 
about  a  week  and  did  a  fine  business.  I  got  quite  in- 
terested in  this,  I  guess  because  it  was  crooked.  We 
made  from  about  $20  to  $30  a  day  at  the  start,  and 
later  made  as  high  as  $100,  but  the  latter  only  a 
couple  of  times. 

I  had  promised  Max  Malich  to  be  in  Denver  on  a 
186 


OUR  FURTHER  PLANS  FOR  PEABODY 

certain  day  to  help  him  on  a  job  he  had,  and  so  I 
went  up  to  Denver  one  Saturday  afternoon  the  last 
part  of  May  to  do  this.  But  Max  Malich  said  he  was 
not  ready  to  have  this  job  done.  I  saw  Pettibone,  and 
he  said  they  wanted  something  pulled  off  before  the 
Western  Federation  convention  met  at  Salt  Lake. 

Hay  wood  had  told  me  this  before ;  he  said  it  would 
look  bad  for  the  executive  board  if  we  didn't  do  some- 
thing, as  we  had  used  so  much  money  during  the  win- 
ter, and  not  a  thing  to  show  for  it.  He  said  after  he 
and  Moyer  left  for  Salt  Lake  he  did  not  care  what 
we  blew  up,  so  long  as  we  made  some  showing. 

Haywood  and  Moyer  had  been  gone  to  Salt  Lake 
some  little  time  now  to  get  ready  for  the  convention, 
and  Pettibone  said  he  was  going  to  the  convention, 
too,  but  he  wanted  to  pull  off  something  first.  I  told 
him  I  did  not  like  to  do  anything  with  Peabody  just 
then;  that  Vaughan  mistrusted  something,  and  that 
I  might  not  be  able  to  do  it  in  a  hurry. 

He  said  he  would  rather  get  Judge  Gabbert  than 
any  one  else.  We  had  watched  Judge  Gabbert,  and, 
as  I  have  before  stated,  he  usually  walked  back  and 
forth  to  the  Capitol,  and  when  he  went  down  in  the 
morning,  he  walked  down  Emerson  Street  to  Colfax 
Avenue.  There  is  a  vacant  lot  in  one  corner  on  Em- 
erson Street  and  Colfax  Avenue,  and  a  foot-path 
across  the  same,  and  Mr.  Gabbert  usually  took  this 
187 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

cut-off.  We  made  a  bomb  and  buried  it  in  this  path. 
We  had  it  fixed  with  a  little  windlass,  with  a  fine 
wire  wound  around  this  with  a  loop  on  the  end  of  it. 
We  left  this  loop  just  enough  above  the  ground  so  we 
could  see  it,  and  had  a  stiff  wire  run  through  the 
little  windlass,  so  it  would  not  turn  over  until  we  took 
this  out,  and  we  fixed  this  wire  so  we  could  just  see 
it  above  the  ground.  We  made  this  in  a  two-quart  tin 
molasses-can,  so  the  little  windlass  and  the  acid  in 
the  giant-caps  were  all  protected  from  the  dirt,  and 
we  made  little  holes  to  run  the  wires  through.  We  put 
this  a  little  to  the  edge  of  the  path,  and  were  careful 
in  digging  so  it  would  not  be  noticed  by  any  one 
walking  across  there,  but  we  knew  just  where  to  find  it. 
The  next  morning  Pettibone  was  going  to  watch, 
and  I  was  going  to  walk  around  on  this  corner,  or  sit 
down  there  and  pretend  to  be  reading,  and  when  Judge 
Gabbert  came  out  of  his  house,  which  was  only  a  block 
away,  Pettibone  was  going  to  give  me  the  signal,  and 
I  was  to  walk  along  this  path  and  hitch  a  lady's  hand- 
satchel  or  large  pocket-book  to  the  wire  on  the  bomb. 
We  had  a  hook  all  ready  fixed  in  this  pocket-book,  and 
all  we  had  to  do  was  to  hitch  it  in  the  little  wire  that 
was  wound  around  the  windlass,  and  pull  out  the  other 
wire  which  held  the  windlass  upright.  We  tried  this 
the  next  morning,  but  some  one  cut  in  between  Judge 
Gabbert  and  us,  and  he  was  too  close  for  me  to  fix  the 
188 


OUR  FURTHER  PLANS  FOR  PEABODY 

pocket-book  after  they  passed.  I  think  we  watched 
two  or  three  mornings,  and  I  was  afraid  to  touch  the 
bomb  after  it  had  stood  that  long,  for  the  little  wind- 
lass swung  very  easily,  and  if  anything  had  touched 
the  wire  at  all  before  we  came  there,  the  least  touch 
might  turn  it  over.  Pettibone  had  to  go  to  this  con- 
vention at  Salt  Lake  then,  and  he  wanted  me  to  work 
on  this  job  until  I  caught  a  morning  when  there  was 
no  one  coming  on  the  sidewalk  but  the  judge.  I  could 
tell  him  as  soon  as  he  came  out  of  his  house  from  this 
corner. 

As  I  was  afraid  to  touch  this  old  bomb,  I  made  an- 
other one.  I  went  to  Pettibone's  store,  and  in  the  base- 
ment he  had  some  old  eight-day  clocks.  I  took  the 
spring  of  one  of  these,  and  practised  with  it  to  see  if 
I  could  get  it  so  it  would  break  those  little  vials  that 
I  had  with  sulphuric  acid  in  for  the  bombs.  I  had  tried 
a  few  vials  with  it,  and  it  broke  them  every  time.  Then 
I  made  this  new  bomb  in  a  wooden  box,  and  fixed  it 
with  this  spring.  I  fastened  the  spring  along  the  un- 
der side  of  the  cover,  and  bent  the  spring  back,  and 
held  it  there  with  a  piece  of  stiff  wire  that  went  down 
through  the  box.  I  had  a  little  eye  in  the  top  of  the 
wire  to  hook  the  pocket-book  on,  and  left  this  so  I 
could  see  it.  When  this  wire  was  pulled  out,  it  let  the 
spring  hit  a  couple  of  half-dram  vials  that  were  filled 
with  acid,  and  broke  them,  and  the  giant-caps  were 
189 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

right  under  these.  This  wire  pulled  out  very  easily, 
and  I  knew  the  spring  was  sure  to  break  the  bottles. 

I  buried  this  second  bomb  as  close  to  the  first  as  I 
dared,  and  not  touch  it.  The  next  morning  I  found  the 
sidewalk  clear  when  the  judge  was  coming,  and  had 
Pettibone's  bicycle,  and  rode  along,  and  stopped  at  the 
bomb  and  hooked  on  the  pocket-book,  and  rode  away. 
I  listened,  and  knew  that  something  had  happened  to 
it,  or  else  he  did  not  see  it,  for  I  did  not  hear  it  go,  and 
I  did  not  have  time  to  get  more  than  a  block  away  by 
the  time  he  would  be  there.  However,  I  was  afraid  to 
go  back  there  for  fear  some  one  had  been  watching  me, 
or  for  fear  something  might  have  happened  that  it  did 
not  go,  and  they  had  discovered  the  bomb.  Anyway, 
I  was  too  big  a  coward  to  go  back,  and  made  up  my 
mind  I  would  let  it  go.  I  did  not  think  the  judge  would 
walk  over  it  and  not  notice  the  pocket-book. 

I  went  on  down-town,  and  about  an  hour  afterward 
I  heard  the  bomb  go  off ;  but  it  was  not  the  judge  that 
got  it,  but  another  poor  unfortunate  man  by  the  name 
of  Merritt  W.  Walley.  There  were  about  ten  pounds 
of  dynamite  in  each  of  these  bombs,  and  they  both  went 
off.  It  blew  this  poor  fellow  to  pieces  and  broke  the 
glass  in  the  windows  for  many  blocks  around.  There 
were  many  theories  advanced  in  regard  to  the  cause 
of  this  explosion,  but  not  any  of  them  came  anywhere 
near  the  truth.  Some  thought  that  a  yeggman  had 
190 


OUR   FURTHER   PLANS    FOR   PEABODY 

buried  nitroglycerin  there  and  Walley  stubbed  against 
it.  I  have  been  told  since  that  Judge  Gabbert  saw  a 
friend  on  the  corner  and  followed  the  walk  around 
instead  of  going  across  the  vacant  lot  that  morning. 
I  thought  when  this  failed  I  was  out  of  luck  sure,  and 
that  there  would  not  be  any  chance  to  work  there  any 
more,  as  I  did  not  suppose  Judge  Gabbert  would  go 
across  there  for  the  present.  So  I  gave  up  trying  to 
do  him  any  harm  for  the  present  at  least,  but  I 
thought  I  would  make  one  more  attempt,  nearly  on 
the  same  line,  with  Judge  Goddard. 

I  made  a  little  square  wooden  box  that  would  hold 
about  ten  pounds  of  dynamite,  and  fixed  this  out  with 
a  little  bottle  and  a  cork  which  would  pull  out  and  spill 
the  acid  on  the  giant-caps,  like  the  one  did  on  the  bomb 
I  made  for  Bradley.  I  told  Max  Malich  about  this,  and 
took  it  over  to  his  place  in  Globeville,  and  stayed  there 
all  night.  And  just  a  little  before  daybreak  the  next 
morning,  he  sent  his  rig  with  a  man  to  drive  me  over 
there.  As  I  have  told  you,  Max  had  a  lot  of  these 
Austrians  around  him  that  would  do  anything  he  said, 
and  this  man  did  not  ask  me  any  questions,  but  drove 
where  I  told  him.  So  we  drove  over  to  Judge  God- 
dard's  place  just  before  it  was  light,  and  I  got  out  and 
dug  a  square  hole  with  a  sharp  spade  I  had  for  the 
purpose,  and  was  careful  to  take  the  sod  off  so  I  could 
replace  it  again,  and  it  would  not  be  noticed.  I  made 
191 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

this  hole  right  up  against  the  gate-post,  but  on  the 
outside.  The  gate  opened  both  ways,  but  it  looked  as 
though  they  usually  opened  it  on  the  inside.  I  put  a 
little  screw-eye  in  the  bottom  of  the  gate,  and  spread  it 
enough  so  I  could  slip  a  loop  of  a  small  cord  in  the 
eye.  I  buried  this  bomb,  and  fixed  the  sod  back  care- 
fully, and  pulled  some  green  grass  over  it,  and  had  the 
cord  long  enough  so  I  could  hook  it  in  the  little  screw- 
eye  later.  This  cord  was  attached  to  the  cork  in  the 
little  bottle  at  the  other  end.  This  cord  was  a  greenish 
color  like  the  grass,  and  I  scattered  a  little  grass  over 
the  loose  end  of  it.  Then  I  went  back  to  Malich's  place 
and  got  breakfast. 

After  breakfast  I  came  back  on  the  street-car  from 
Globeville,  and  about  half  past  eight  I  walked  along 
in  front  of  Judge  Goddard's  place,  dropped  a  news- 
paper carelessly,  and  stooped  down  to  pick  it  up,  and 
hooked  this  cord  with  the  loop  into  the  screw-eye  in  the 
gate.  I  took  a  car  and  went  down-town,  and  I  expected 
to  hear  this  go  before  I  got  down-town,  as  I  waited 
within  about  fifteen  minutes  of  the  usual  time  that  the 
judge  came  out  and  took  the  car  to  go  down-town.  I 
did  this  so  there  would  not  be  so  much  danger  of  some 
one  else  opening  the  gate  first.  But  I  never  heard  any- 
thing from  it,  and  did  not  know  what  had  become  of  it. 
I  thought  perhaps  they  had  noticed  me  when  I  hooked 
in  the  cord,  although  I  was  only  a  moment  and  the 
192 


OUR  FURTHER  PLANS  FOR  PEABODY 

gate  is  right  close  to  the  sidewalk,  so  I  did  not  go 
along  there  for  a  good  while  afterward ;  but  when  I 
did  I  noticed  the  grass  was  dead  over  this  bomb,  and 
then  I  figured  out  what  had  happened. 

I  had  fastened  the  cord  to  the  bottle  by  a  pin  which 
I  put  through  the  cork,  and  made  into  a  hook  on  the 
outside.  I  had  put  this  pin  in  two  or  three  days  before, 
and  left  the  bottle  full  of  acid,  and  evidently  the  head 
of  the  pin  on  the  inside  had  been  eaten  off,  and  allowed 
the  pin  to  pull  through  the  cork,  and  so  none  of  the 
acid  had  come  out,  as  the  rubber  cork  would  close  up 
after  it.  Then  afterward,  as  they  were  watering  the 
lawn  all  the  time,  the  water  had  soaked  through  and 
spoiled  the  giant-caps,  for  these  are  no  good  when 
they  are  wet.  And  after  this  the  acid  would  have  no 
effect  on  the  caps  if  it  did  eat  the  cork  out,  and  so 
could  not  set  the  bomb  off.  This  was  the  only  reason  I 
can  give  for  its  not  going  off. 

Well,  I  thought  at  the  time  that  I  was  clear  out  of 
luck  and  everything  was  against  me,  and  I  left  Denver 
and  went  down  to  the  San  Luis  Valley,  where  Vaughan 
was  writing  hail-insurance,  and  went  to  work  again 
with  him.  We  worked  there  about  two  weeks  and  made 
good  money.  They  all  came  back  from  the  Federation 
convention  at  Salt  Lake  about  the  1st  of  July,  1905, 
Haywood  and  Moyer  both  being  elected  again,  and  I 
told  Haywood  the  hard  luck  I  had  had,  and  he  thought 
193 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 
I  had  better  lay  off  for  a  while.  Hajwood  and  Moyer 
left  right  away  again  for  Chicago,  where  they  went 
to  form  a  new  organization  which  they  called  the  In- 
dustrial Workers  of  the  World. 

I  did  not  do  anything  for  a  time — not  until  Hay- 
wood  came  back  from  Chicago  in  July.  I  left  this 
grip  down  at  Canon  City  with  the  bomb  in  it  so  long 
that  I  was  afraid  to  go  after  it,  for  fear  they  had 
found  out  what  was  in  it  and  might  arrest  me ;  but  we 
had  concluded  to  let  Peabody  alone  for  the  time  being, 
and  do  some  work  in  Denver,  so  I  went  down  to  Canon 
City  one  day  and  got  the  grip  all  right;  and  the  old 
lady  said  it  had  never  been  moved.  I  told  the  old  lady 
some  yarn  about  leaving  the  grip  there  so  long,  and 
came  away  and  brought  the  bomb  to  Pettibone' s  house, 
and  put  it  in  his  cellar,  but  a  little  later  took  it  out 
and  buried  it. 

Pettibone  and  I  told  Haywood  if  we  had  a  good 
horse  and  buggy  we  would  do  some  work  in  Denver. 
Pettibone  wanted  to  get  Judge  Gabbert,  Judge  God- 
dard,  or  Sherman  Bell,  and  Haywood  sent  up  to  Crip- 
ple Creek  and  had  them  bring  a  team  and  wagon  down 
from  those  the  Federation  had  at  their  stores  there, 
and  we  tried  these  horses, but  they  were  all  used  up  and 
were  no  good  for  drivers.  He  sent  them  back  again, 
and  then  bought  a  horse  and  buggy  from  a  colored 
man.  I  had  a  barn  rented  about  a  block  and  a  half 
194 


OUR  FURTHER  PLANS  FOR  PEABODY 

from  Pettibone's  residence^  and  Pettibone  and  I  took 
the  rig  there  and  started  in  to  assassinate  Sherman 
Bell.  This  was  in  August,  1905. 

We  drove  around  there  nights,  and  I  would  go  by 
his  place  in  the  daytime  and  see  if  I  could  see  him.  He 
lived  right  on  the  edge  of  Congress  Park,  and  the 
shrubbery  came  right  close  up  to  his  back  yard,  and  I 
was  going  to  crawl  up  as  close  as  I  could  and  see  if  I 
could  not  see  him  through  the  window.  I  tried  this 
several  times,  but  they  had  some  little  dogs  that  used 
to  bark  when  they  heard  a  noise,  and  I  never  got  any 
closer  than  the  back-yard  fence.  I  was  trying  to  get 
between  his  house  and  the  one  next  to  it ;  the  house  next 
to  his  was  empty,  and  they  did  not  pull  the  blinds 
down  at  the  windows  on  this  side  of  Bell's  house.  I  was 
working  to  get  in  between  these  houses,  but  these  dogs 
always  made  a  racket.  Some  one  would  come  out,  but 
I  could  not  tell  in  the  dark  who  it  was.  I  had  a  pump 
shot-gun  loaded  with  buck-shot,  and  could  have  shot 
this  man ;  but  I  was  not  sure  whether  it  was  Sherman 
Bell  or  not,  as  I  had  seen  another  man  there.  Pettibone 
kept  the  rig  and  waited  for  me  out  in  Congress  Park, 
a  little  way  behind  the  house. 


195 


CHAPTER    FIFTEEN 

HOW     I     STARTED     AFTER     GOVERNOR     STEUNENBERG 

SOME  time  in  August,  1905,  Mover  came  back 
from  California  where  he  had  been  on  a  vaca- 
tion. Nearly  ever  since  the  Industrial  Workers' 
convention  at  Chicago,  I  saw  him  on  the  street  and  he 
asked  me  what  I  was  doing,  and  I  told  him  we  were 
after  General  Bell.  He  said  we  would  have  to  cut  that 
out  in  Denver  while  he  was  there,  as  he  could  not  stand 
any  more  torture  from  being  thrown  into  prison,  as  he 
was  half  dead  now.  He  said  they  had  some  work  to  do 
on  the  outside,  and  for  me  to  come  down  to  the  office 
and  we  would  talk  it  over.  The  next  day  I  went  down 
and  I  think  Pettibone  went  with  me,  or  came  a  little 
later,  and  Moyer  said  he  would  not  take  any  more 
chances  of  being  thrown  in  jail,  and  said  further  that 
the  way  his  health  was,  he  could  not  stand  another 
siege  like  they  had  given  him  at  Telluride,  and  that 
would  be  the  first  thing  that  would  happen  if  we 
bumped  Sherman  Bell  off.  He  said  they  had  some 
work  on  the  outside  to  do,  and  then  he  said  he  wanted 
me  to  go  down  to  Goldfield,  Nev.,  and  do  away  with 
196 


HOW  I  STARTED  AFTER  STEUNENBERG 

Johnnie  Neville.  He  said  he  could  not  get  him  out  of 
his  mind  and  could  not  sleep  nights  thinking  about 
him,  and  that  he  knew  too  much  and  was  liable  to  get 
them  in  trouble  any  time  and  especially  so  if  he  got 
hard  up. 

Moyer  called  Hay  wood  and  Pettibone  into  his  office, 
and  he  explained  his  condition  to  them,  and  said  we 
had  some  work  on  the  outside  that  they  had  wanted 
done  for  a  long  time  and  that  we  had  better  do  that 
now.  Pettibone  said  he  would  like  to  get  some  of  these 
fellows  in  Denver  while  we  were  fixed  for  it,  and  Hay- 
wood  said  he  was  willing  to  take  his  chances,  but 
Moyer  absolutely  refused  to  have  anything  done  in 
Denver  while  he  was  there.  Then  Haywood  said  he 
wanted  to  get  ex-Governor  Steunenberg  before  he  left 
the  office,  and  further  said  he  had  sent  two  or  three 
men  down  there  to  get  him,  but  they  had  all  failed. 
These  men  they  had  down  there  at  different  times 
were  Steve  Adams  and  Ed  Minster  and  Art  Baston, 
and  a  man  named  McCarty  from  the  Creur  d'Alenes. 

Moyer  said  that  he  thought  it  would  have  a  good 
effect  if  we  could  bump  Steunenberg  off  and  then  write 
letters  to  Peabody,  Sherman  Bell,  and  some  others  that 
had  been  prominent  in  trying  to  crush  the  Federation, 
and  tell  them  that  they,  too,  would  get  what  Governor 
Steunenberg  got ;  that  we  had  not  forgotten  them,  and 
never  would  forget  them,  and  the  only  way  they 
197 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

would  escape  would  be  to  die,  and  they  need  not 
think  because  we  had  overlooked  them  for  a  while 
that  we  had  forgotten  them.  Haywood  said  we  would 
go  back  to  Paterson,  N.  J.,  and  send  these  letters 
from  there  and  write  them  in  such  a  way  that  they 
would  think  it  was  some  of  those  foreign  anarchists 
that  had  sent  them,  as  that  is  the  American  head- 
quarters for  the  anarchists.  He  said  he  did  not  know 
what  would  be  worse  than  to  know  some  one  was  on 
your  trail  to  kill  you,  and  not  to  know  who  it  was 
or  when  to  expect  it,  and  that  it  would  be  like  a  living 
death  and  that  these  fellows  would  be  afraid  of  their 
shadows,  and  if  we  got  Steunenberg,  after  letting  him 
go  so  long,  then  they  would  think  sure  that  we  never 
forgot  any  one  that  had  persecuted  us. 

We  talked  a  whole  lot  more  on  this,  and  Pettibone 
said  this  would  be  all  right,  but  he  would  like  to  do  a 
little  work  at  home,  and  he  further  said  he  was  afraid 
it  would  be  a  hard  proposition  to  get  Steunenberg 
down  in  a  little  country  town,  like  Caldwell,  Idaho, 
where  he  lived.  Haywood  said  he  had  been  told  that 
Steunenberg  was  in  the  sheep  business  and  got  in  a 
buckboard  and  drove  out  to  his  sheep  camps  in  the 
mountains,  and  paid  no  attention  or  even  thought  his 
life  was  in  danger,  and  that  it  had  been  so  long  since 
the  Coeur  d'Alene  trouble  that  he  likely  had  forgotten 
it.  They  said  I  could  make  the  round  trip — either 
198 


HOW  I  STARTED  AFTER  STEUNENBERG 

go  to  Nevada  for  Neville,  and  then  to  Caldwell,  or 
to  Caldwell  first.  I  told  them  I  would  go  to  Caldwell 
first.  Mover  wanted  me  to  go  to  Nevada  first  or  to  get 
around  there  as  soon  as  I  could.  Their  plan  was  for 
me  to  go  down  to  Goldfield  and  get  in  with  Neville  and 
pretend  to  get  drunk  with  him,  and  put  some  cyanide 
of  potassium  in  his  whisky  or  whatever  he  was  drink- 
ing. This  they  thought  would  be  easy,  as  he  kept  a 
saloon,  they  wanted  this  done  as  quietly  as  possible, 
and  thought  there  would  be  no  suspicion  attached  to 
it  if  he  did  die  suddenly,  and  no  notice  would  be  paid 
to  it  in  a  new  place  like  Goldfield.  Moyer  was  the  only 
one  that  was  very  anxious  to  have  Johnnie  killed.  I 
told  him  I  would  do  it,  but  I  did  not  intend  to  at  the 
time. 

Moyer  told  me  to  get  what  money  I  would  need 
from  Haywood ;  he  asked  me  how  much  I  would  need, 
and  I  told  him  $300.  Haywood  had  given  me  $60  a 
few  days  before  this  and  he  gave  me  $240  more,  and 
said  he  hoped  I  would  succeed  in  getting  Steunenberg, 
as  he  had  already  cost  them  a  lot  of  money.  I  told  him 
I  would  do  the  best  I  could.  I  did  not  see  him  again 
before  I  left.  Moyer  went  out  that  afternoon  fishing 
up  Platte  Canon,  and  Pettibone  wanted  me  to  go  with 
him  that  night,  and  make  one  more  attempt  on  General 
Bell,  and  I  did,  but  did  not  try  much  to  see  him.  The 
next  day  I  got  everything  ready,  and  packed  the  big 
199 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

clock  bomb  that  I  had  brought  up  from  Canon  City 
in  my  trunk,  and  bought  a  return  ticket  to  Portland, 
Ore.,  good  for  ninety  days  with  stop-overs  any  place 
on  the  route,  good  also  to  return  via  Seattle  and 
Spokane,  Wash. 

We  had  talked  over  the  proposition  and  Pettibone 
wanted  me  to  look  over  the  country  around  Seattle 
and  Puget  Sound,  and  see  if  I  could  not  find  a  small 
place  on  the  Sound  close  to  the  British  line.  We  had 
letters  from  Arthur  Parker,  a  Cripple  Creek  miner, 
who  had  gone  up  there  and  got  a  place,  and  he  liked  it 
very  much.  Pettibone  and  Haywood  said  if  I  found  a 
place  that  I  thought  would  suit  us  to  write  them  and 
they  would  dig  up  the  money  to  buy  it,  and  I  told  them 
I  would  hunt  up  a  place  somewhere,  as  I  thought  I  had 
taken  chances  enough  and  was  entitled  to  the  price  of 
a  small  place.  Pettibone  and  I  were  going  to  live  there, 
but  we  were  going  to  make  it  a  headquarters  where 
Haywood  and  Moyer  could  send  men  they  wanted  to 
keep  out  of  sight.  We  also  thought  that,  being  near 
the  British  line,  we  could  do  some  smuggling  there. 

I  left  Denver  between  the  25th  and  30th  of  August, 
1905,  over  the  Rio  Grande  Railroad.  I  stopped  at  Salt 
Lake  City  a  few  days  and  met  some  of  my  old  friends, 
among  whom  were  Charlie  Shoddy  and  Lewis  Cutler. 
The  latter  lived  in  Salt  Lake,  but  Shoddy  came  from 
the  Coeur  d'Alenes,  Idaho,  with  me  shortly  after  the 
200 


HOW  I  STARTED  AFTER  STEUNENBERG 

trouble  in  1899.  We  had  worked  together  in  Arizona 
and  Nevada  since,  but  I  had  not  seen  him  since  leaving 
Utah  for  Colorado,  and  we  talked  over  old  times.  He 
said  it  had  been  coming  pretty  tough  for  him,  and  said 
I  looked  pretty  prosperous,  and  asked  me  what  I  had 
been  doing.  I  told  him  I  had  found  a  new  way  of 
making  a  living  without  working  so  hard,  and  he  said 
he  wished  I  would  tell  him  how.  I  told  him  to  keep  me 
posted  where  he  was  and  I  would  write  to  him  if  I  had 
something  on. 

I  then  left  Salt  Lake  and  came  on  to  Nampa,  Idaho, 
which  is  about  nine  miles  from  Caldwell,  and  stopped 
off  there  and  stayed  a  few  days  at  the  Commercial 
Hotel.  I  met  a  man  named  Wilcox  from  Colorado 
there,  and  I  talked  with  him  a  good  deal,  and  he  told 
all  about  the  country,  as  he  had  been  here  before. 

I  asked  him  if  he  knew  Mr.  Steunenberg,  and  he 
told  me  he  did,  well,  and  was  talking  to  him  just  a 
day  or  two  ago  at  the  depot,  when  the  governor  was 
waiting  for  a  train.  Mr.  Wilcox  spoke  of  the  trouble 
in  Colorado  and  said  Mr.  Steunenberg  said  that  Gov- 
ernor Peabody  did  not  act  quick  enough  in  that 
trouble.  I  think  I  stayed  in  Nampa  three  days  and 
Mr.  Wilcox  left. 

Then  I  went  down  to  Caldwell  and  stopped  at  the 
Pacific  Hotel,  and  told  Mr.  Dempsey,  the  proprietor, 
I  would  stay  a  few  days,  and  that  a  friend  of  mine 
201 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

in  Colorado  wanted  me  to  stop  off  there  and  see  what 
the  chances  were  to  buy  some  lambs.  He  told  me  the 
names  of  some  sheep-men  there,  and  among  other 
things  he  mentioned  Governor  Steunenberg's  name. 
He  further  told  me  that  he  was  not  at  home  much,  but 
was  in  Boise  and  Mountain  Home  most  of  the  time 
and  was  engaged  in  buying  and  selling  sheep. 

I  took  a  walk  around  and  located  where  Governor 
Steunenberg  lived,  and  then  took  the  train  in  the  after- 
noon and  went  to  Boise  and  stopped  at  the  Capitol 
Hotel  one  night.  This  was  in  the  early  part  of  Sep- 
tember. I  looked  over  the  register,  but  did  not  find 
Mr.  Steunenberg's  name.  The  next  morning  I  went 
over  to  the  Idan-ha  and  took  a  look  over  the  register, 
and  found  his  name  there.  I  went  back  to  the  Capitol, 
and  paid  my  bill,  and  got  my  grip  and  went  over  to  the 
Idan-ha  and  got  a  room.  My  room  was  on  the  same 
floor  that  Mr.  Steunenberg's  was,  and  that  noon,  when 
the  chambermaids  were  off  the  floor,  I  tried  a  skeleton 
key  I  had  to  see  if  it  would  open  his  room,  and  it  did 
all  right. 

I  got  to  talking  to  a  man  down  in  the  hotel  lobby 
that  afternoon  and  he  asked  me  my  business  and  I  told 
him  I  was  going  to  Portland  to  the  fair,  but  I  stopped 
off  here  for  a  friend  of  mine  in  Colorado  to  make  some 
inquiry  what  the  chances  would  be  to  buy  a  few  thou- 
sand lambs  for  feeding  purposes.  He  said  that  was  his 
202 


HOW  I  STARTED  AFTER  STEUNENBERG 

business  and  that  he  was  working  for  a  stock  com- 
pany from  Wyoming,  and  he  took  me  across  the  street 
from  the  Idan-ha  Hotel  and  introduced  me  to  a  Mr. 
Johnson  and  his  son,  who  were  commission  men.  Mr. 
Johnson  named  over  some  of  the  big  sheep-men  and  I 
told  him  I  thought  I  heard  my  friend  say  that  he 
bought  some  the  year  before  from  a  man  by  the  name 
of  Steunenberg.  Yes,  he  said,  probably  so,  as  ex-Gov- 
ernor Steunenberg  was  in  the  sheep  business.  Then 
he  said,  "  By  the  way,  that's  him  over  there  in  front  of 
the  Idan-ha  now,"  and  he  pointed  him  out.  That  was 
the  first  time  I  had  ever  seen  Governor  Steunenberg 
to  know  him. 

In  a  little  while  we  went  down  and  went  back  to  the 
hotel,  and  I  thought  I  would  get  my  grip  and  go  to 
Nampa,  and  get  the  big  bomb  I  had  made  for  Gover- 
nor Peabody  in  Canon  City  out  of  my  trunk  in  the 
depot,  and  come  back,  and  either  set  it  with  the  alarm- 
clock  and  leave  it  in  the  grip  and  set  it  under  his  bed, 
or  set  it  like  the  Bradley  bomb — with  a  string  on  his 
bedroom  door,  so  it  would  go  off  when  he  went  to  his 
room. 

While  on  my  way  from  Boise  to  Nampa  I  got  to 
thinking  what  this  would  do,  and  that  they  would  look 
pretty  close  after  all  strangers,  and  that  my  coming 
there  and  going  away  so  quick  would  look  pretty  sus- 
picious. This  bomb  had  twenty-five  pounds  of  dyna- 
203 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

mite  in  it,  and  I  knew  it  would  blow  that  part  of  the 
hotel  all  to  pieces,  and  probably  kill  a  lot  of  people. 
But  that  was  not  the  reason  I  stopped,  for  I  had  no 
heart  at  that  time  and  thought  very  little  of  how  many 
I  killed,  as  long  as  Mr.  Steunenberg  was  one  of  them. 
I  was  only  thinking  what  the  chances  of  myself  were 
in  being  discovered.  I  knew  I  could  get  the  bomb  in 
his  room,  and  get  away  from  the  hotel,  and  if  I  used 
an  alarm-clock,  I  might  be  half-way  to  Portland  and 
not  be  discovered.  The  only  danger  of  this  was  that 
he  might  look  under  the  bed  and  find  it,  and  if  I  set  it 
at  his  door,  the  time  he  would  be  killed  would  depend 
on  what  time  he  went  to  bed.  I  knew  this  latter  was 
the  surest  way  to  catch  him,  but  I  did  not  know  how 
far  I  might  get  away  before  he  might  go  to  his  room, 
and  I  did  not  want  to  set  this  at  the  door  until  about 
dark  for  fear  some  of  the  chambermaids  might  go  in 
the  room. 

As  I  had  my  ticket  and  money  enough,  I  made  up 
my  mind  all  at  once  I  would  go  on  to  Portland  and 
Seattle,  and  look  around  Seattle  and  the  sound  for  the 
little  ranch  we  had  spoken  of  and  then  go  up  to  Wal- 
lace and  look  after  a  proposition  D.  C.  Coates  had 
spoken  of  when  he  was  in  Denver  the  month  before.  I 
always  dreaded  to  do  these  murders,  and  usually  put 
them  off  as  long  as  I  could  or  rather  as  long  as  I  had 
money. 

204 


HOW  I  STARTED  AFTER  STEUNENBERG 

So  I  took  the  train  and  went  on  to  Portland  that 
same  night,  and  stayed  there  a  few  days,  and  took  in 
the  fair,  and  then  went  on  to  Seattle  and  stayed  there 
a  week  or  so.  This  was  about  the  middle  of  September. 
Pettibone  had  given  me  the  address  of  an  old  partner 
of  his  at  Seattle,  named  William  Barrett,  and  I  hunted 
him  up  and  he  showed  me  around  the  city.  This  was 
my  first  time  there.  I  told  Barrett  I  wanted  to  get  a 
small  place  up  on  the  sound  somewhere  close  to  the 
British  line.  He  took  me  down  and  introduced  me  to 
some  real  estate  men  and  I  went  out  and  looked  at 
some  places  near  Seattle,  but  I  did  not  like  them,  and 
I  did  not  like  the  weather  there,  as  it  was  cold  and 
raining  there  then.  I  got  Barrett  to  send  Pettibone  a 
good  map  of  the  sound  country,  and  I  left  there  for 
Spokane,  stayed  there  one  night,  and  started  for  Wal- 
lace, Idaho.  I  stopped  off  at  Wardner  to  seek  Jack 
Simpkins  and  I  found  him  and  told  him  where  I  had 
been,  and  what  I  went  to  Caldwell  for,  and  what  I  was 
in  Wallace  to  look  up. 


205 


CHAPTER    SIXTEEN 

THE     ASSASSINATION     OF      GOVERNOR     STEUNENBERG 

JACK  and  I  left  Wallace  for  Spokane,  about 
October  20th,  and  Jack  wanted  to  go  over  to 
Marble  Creek  to  his  claims,  and  I  was  going  with 
him  for  a  litle  hunt,  as  he  said  there  were  deer  and  elk 
up  there.  We  got  tickets  to  Harrison  and  from  there 
to  Spokane  by  boat  and  electric  line.  My  trunk  got 
checked  wrong  on  this  trip  and  I  waited  a  few  days 
in  Spokane  for  it.  Then  finally  we  started  for  the 
Marble  Creek  country.  We  went  up  to  the  head  of 
navigation  on  the  St.  Joe  River.  On  our  way  up  we 
found  the  trunk  at  Harrison.  Jack  and  I  went  over 
twenty-five  miles  or  so  from  the  head  of  the  St.  Joe, 
over  to  Marble  Creek;  we  were  gone  about  a  week. 
During  the  time  we  were  over  there  Jack  showed  me 
where  he  and  Adams  and  the  others  killed  Boule,  the 
year  before,  and  his  horse  and  dog,  and  where  the  other 
claim- jumper  that  was  with  him  ran  as  they  were 
shooting  at  him. 

The  last  part  of  October  we  came  to  Spokane  again 
and  had  planned  to  come  to  Caldwell,  as  Jack  wanted 
206 


THE    ASSASSINATION    OF    STEUNENBERG 

to  have  a  hand  in  the  killing  of  Governor  Steunenberg. 
Jack  said  he  could  make  it  as  an  excuse  that  he  wanted 
to  visit  the  unions  at  Silver  City  and  vicinity,  and  then 
he  could  charge  the  Federation  with  his  time  and 
expenses.  I  made  up  my  mind  I  would  sue  the  rail- 
road company  for  damages  for  holding  my  trunk. 
Jack  had  ordered  ten  pounds  of  No.  1  dynamite  the 
day  before  at  a  hardware  store,  and  after  we  went 
over  and  got  this  we  went  up  to  Robinson,  Miller  & 
Rosenthal's  law  office,  to  see  about  lodging  a  claim 
against  the  railroad  for  damages  for  holding  my 
trunk.  We  met  Miller  on  the  elevator  and  he  went 
up  with  us.  This  was  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  him, 
and  Jack  introduced  me  to  him,  he  being  the  only 
member  of  the  firm  there  then.  I  told  him  about  the 
trunk,  and  he  asked  me  how  much  a  day  my  time 
was  worth  and  what  my  business  was.  I  told  him  I 
was  a  mining  promoter,  and  my  time  was  worth  $10 
per  day.  I  think  he  figured  up  $60  and  drew  up  a 
paper,  and  I  made  an  affidavit  to  it,  and  he  said  he 
would  sue  them  right  away  and  send  me  half  of  what 
he  got.  I  gave  him  no  money,  as  he  was  to  get  half 
of  what  he  collected.  Jack  had  this  little  box  of  dyna- 
mite with  him,  and  Miller  asked  him  what  he  had 
in  the  box,  and  he  told  him  dynamite.  I  don't  think 
Miller  thought  it  was  dynamite,  as  Jack  said  it  as 
though  it  was  a  joke,  but  it  was  a  common  thing  for 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

any  one  that  knew  us  fellows  to  call  us  dynamiters 
in  a  joking  way,  and  I  must  say  that  we  felt  somewhat 
proud  of  the  name.  Miller  told  me  some  time  after 
that  he  settled  my  claim  with  the  railroad  company 
for  $25,  and  sent  me  a  check  for  $12.50.  He  sent  this 
check  to  Denver  to  Pettibone's  store,  as  I  had  my  mail 
go  there,  and  then  Pettibone  would  forward  it  to  me 
wherever  I  was,  but  I  never  got  this  check. 

Jack  and  I  got  ready  in  a  few  days  and  came  to 
Caldwell,  Idaho,  and  stopped  at  the  Pacific  Hotel.  It 
was  now  about  the  1st  of  November.  We  looked 
around  to  see  if  we  could  see  Mr.  Steunenberg  for 
three  or  four  days,  and  as  we  did  not  see  him,  we 
thought  we  would  take  a  run  up  to  Nampa,  and  tele- 
phone to  his  residence  from  there — as  he  had  a  phone 
in  his  house — and  make  some  excuse  to  find  out  where 
he  was.  I  telephoned  to  his  residence  at  Caldwell,  and 
they  said  he  was  home,  but  was  down-town.  I  told 
them  I  would  call  him  later. 

We  then  left  Nampa  and  went  back  to  Caldwell; 
this  was  on  a  Saturday  evening.  We  registered  both 
at  Caldwell  and  at  the  Commercial  Hotel,  Nampa; 
I  as  Thomas  Hogan  and  Jack  as  Simmons.  We  went 
around  Mr.  Steunenberg's  residence  that  night,  but 
did  not  go  close  to  the  window  and,  as  his  house 
stood  back  quite  a  little  from  the  street,  and  it  being 
bright  moonlight,  we  could  not  tell  him  for  sure, 
208 


THE   TWO   STEUNENBERG    BOMBS 

From  models  made  by  Orchard.  The  lower  of  these  failed  to  ex- 
plode. The  ex-Governor  was  killed  by  the  upper  one;  the  clock 
on  this  was  not  used,  the  cork  of  the  bottle  of  acid  being  pulled 
out  by  a  string  fastened  to  a  gate. 


THE    ASSASSINATION    OF    STEUNENBERG 

although  the  window  shades  were  clear  up  and  we 
had  a  good  pair  of  French  opera-glasses.  The  next 
day  we  fixed  a  bomb  and  thought,  if  we  caught  Mr. 
Steunenberg  down-town  we  would  watch  him,  and, 
if  he  stayed  until  after  dark,  we  would  place  this 
along  the  pathway  leading  to  his  residence  and  tie 
a  cord  or  fine  wire  across  the  pathway  so  that  when 
he  walked  into  it  he  would  explode  the  bomb. 

We  did  locate  him  on  Sunday  afternoon  sitting  in 
the  office  of  the  Saratoga  Hotel,  and  we  watched  him, 
and  he  remained  until  after  dark,  and  as  soon  as 
it  was  dark  we  took  the  bomb  up  on  the  street  lead- 
ing to  his  residence  and  placed  it  close  to  the  path 
where  he  would  be  most  apt  to  pass,  and  laid  it 
close  to  the  path,  and  put  some  weeds  over  it,  and 
stretched  a  fine  wire  across  the  path,  and  fastened  it 
on  the  opposite  side.  Mr.  Steunenberg's  residence  was 
the  only  one  up  this  street  and  we  thought  he  would 
be  the  only  one  likely  to  be  going  up  there  that  night, 
or  would  be  apt  to  be  going  home  and  be  the  first 
one  along.  This  bomb  was  just  the  ten-pound  box  of 
dynamite  we  bought  at  Spokane,  with  some  giant- 
caps  in  it,  and  a  little  vial  of  sulphuric  acid  in  a  wind- 
lass that  would  turn  over  and  spill  the  acid  on  the 
caps. 

After  we  placed  this,  we  hurried  back  to  the  Pacific 
Hotel  so  we  could  prove  where  we  were  if  necessary. 
209 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

We  waited  an  hour  or  two,  and  as  we  did  not  hear 
any  explosion,  we  went  down  by  the  Saratoga  Hotel 
to  see  if  he  had  gone  from  there.  He  had  gone  and 
we  went  up  where  we  had  placed  the  bomb,  and  found 
he  or  some  one  had  passed  and  broken  the  fine  wire 
across  the  path,  and  had  turned  the  little  windlass 
with  the  bottle  of  acid  in  it  over  so  quick  that  none 
of  the  acid  had  spilled  out,  though  the  bottle  had 
turned  clear  over,  and  was  nearly  right  side  up  again. 
It  was  turned  over  enough  so  that  the  acid  was  about 
dripping  out,  and  it  was  very  ticklish  business  to 
handle  it,  and  I  thought  at  first  I  would  leave  it  where 
it  was,  but  finally  I  put  my  finger  over  the  mouth 
of  the  vial,  and  took  it  out,  and  took  the  bomb  up 
and  carried  it  over  by  the  railroad  track,  and  cov- 
ered it  up  with  some  weeds,  and  went  back  to  the 
hotel.  We  looked  for  Mr.  Steunenberg  again  the  next 
day,  but  could  not  see  him,  nor  did  we  see  him  for 
some  days  after. 

Jack  got  afraid  to  stay  there,  and  began  to  think  it 
would  look  bad  for  him,  and  make  it  worse  for  me 
if  we  did  kill  Mr.  Steunenberg,  and  he  was  found 
there  and  known — and  he  had  seen  some  people  there 
that  he  knew,  so  he  decided  to  go  over  to  Silver  City 
and  Delamar  and  visit  the  unions  there,  and  he  wanted 
me  to  stay  and  see  if  I  could  not  get  a  chance  to 
finish  the  job. 

210 


THE    ASSASSINATION    OF    STEUNENBERG 

When  Jack  went,  I  left  the  Pacific  Hotel  and  rented 
a  room  over  on  the  Boulevard  at  W.  H.  Schenck's — 
a  private  house.  This  was  on  a  street  that  Mr.  Steu- 
nenberg  would  be  apt  to  go  up  and  down  to  and 
from  his  residence  when  he  came  down-town,  and  I 
had  a  front  room  and  could  see  up  and  down  the 
sidewalk.  I  stayed  there  two  weeks,  but  Mr.  Steunen- 
berg  was  away  most  of  the  time.  I  think  he  usually 
came  home  Saturdays  and  stayed  over  Sunday.  I 
noticed  in  the  papers  that  Governor  Gooding  had  ap- 
pointed Mr.  Steunenberg  on  some  committee  to  meet 
in  Boise  about  this  time,  and  I  thought  I  would  go 
to  Boise  again,  and  see  if  I  could  not  catch  him 
at  the  hotel.  I  went  out  and  got  the  bomb  where  I  had 
it  cached  by  the  railroad  track. 

I  had  two  letters  from  Jack,  and  he  told  me  Moyer 
had  been  up  to  Silver  City,  and  Easterly  had  told 
him  we  were  at  Caldwell,  as  I  had  written  to  Easterly, 
and  Jack  said  that  Moyer  flew  right  away  from  there. 

Jack  went  up  to  Hailey  from  Silver  City.  I  was 
in  Nampa  the  night  he  came  back  from  Hailey,  and 
he  stopped  off  at  Nampa,  too.  But  he  got  up  and 
left  the  next  morning  for  Caldwell  before  I  was  up 
and  I  did  not  see  him.  He  went  up  to  the  house  where 
I  was,  and  they  told  him  I  went  away  the  day  before, 
and  did  not  come  back  that  night,  but  my  things  were 
there.  I  went  back  to  Caldwell  that  afternoon  and  met 
211 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

Jack  at  the  depot,  as  he  was  going  to  take  the  train, 
and  he  said  he  had  left  a  letter  for  me.  I  told  him 
he  had  better  wait  and  take  the  midnight  train,  and 
he  did.  We  went  over  to  my  room,  and  in  going  over 
he  said  he  had  a  good  saddle  spotted,  and  that  he 
would  get  it  now  that  he  had  waited  and  take  it 
home  with  him.  It  was  hanging  up  on  the  outside 
of  a  little  outbuilding  by  a  house.  We  had  picked 
up  a  light  lap-robe  some  time  before,  and  wrapped 
it  around  our  bomb.  We  got  this  lap-robe  and  Jack 
went  to  a  hardware  store  and  got  a  ball  of  twine 
and  a  sack  needle,  and  we  made  a  sack  out  of  the  lap- 
robe  in  my  room  and,  about  half  an  hour  before  train 
time,  we  went  down  and  got  this  saddle  and  put  it 
in  the  sack  and  I  helped  Jack  carry  it  nearly  over  to 
the  depot.  I  had  a  railroad  ticket  good  from  Spokane 
to  Denver  and  I  gave  this  to  Jack,  as  he  was  going 
to  Denver  to  attend  a  meeting  of  the  executive  board 
of  the  Western  Federation  of  Miners,  of  which  he 
was  a  member. 

Simpkins  said  for  me  to  be  sure  and  not  get  dis- 
couraged and  leave  until  I  got  the  governor,  and  if 
I  got  broke  to  let  him  know  and  he  would  see  that  I 
got  money,  and  he  would  fix  it  so  that  after  the  job 
I  would  get  a  good  bunch  of  money — enough  to 
buy  a  ranch  and  quit  this  work  and  let  somebody 
else  do  it,  as  I  had  done  my  share.  He  wanted  me  to 
212 


THE    ASSASSINATION    OF    STEUNENBERG 

buy  a  ranch  up  on  the  St.  Joe  River,  and  I  got  sev- 
eral letters  from  him — some  of  them  after  he  went 
to  Denver — and  he  told  me  in  one  of  these  that  he 
had  everything  all  fixed,  and  Pettibone  would  send 
me  the  money  as  soon  as  the  job  was  done. 

As  I  have  before  stated,  I  thought  I  might  find 
Mr.  Steunenberg  in  Boise,  and  I  left  Caldwell  for 
there  a  day  or  two  after  Jack  left.  I  stayed  a  few 
days  in  Boise,  but  saw  nothing  of  Mr.  Steunenberg, 
and  I  thought  I  would  like  to  have  some  one  to  help 
me,  and  I  was  lonesome  and  disgusted  to  have  to  wait 
so  long.  I  telephoned  to  Silver  City  to  Easterly  and 
asked  him  if  he  wanted  to  take  part  in  the  contract, 
and  he  said  he  could  not  leave  there  just  then,  and 
I  made  up  my  mind  to  go  to  Salt  Lake  City  and 
get  Charlie  Shoddy,  the  man  I  met  in  Salt  Lake  City 
when  on  my  way  out  to  Caldwell  the  first  time. 

I  left  Boise  for  Salt  Lake  City  about  November 
20th,  and  went  up  to  Siegel  Brothers'  store  there,  as 
they  owned  this  mine  where  Shoddy  was  working,  and 
I  asked  if  Charlie  was  still  out  at  their  mine.  They 
said  they  thought  he  was,  and  I  wrote  him  and  ad- 
dressed the  letter  to  Siegel  post-office,  but  never  got 
an  answer  from  it. 

I  stayed  in  Salt  Lake  City  about  three  weeks,  and 
while  there  I  got  a  letter  from  Pettibone  stating  that 
my  friend  Johnnie  Neville  had  died  quite  suddenly 
213 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 
in  Goldfield,  Nev.,  and  a  little  later  I  saw  the  account 
of  it  in  the  papers.  Now  I  had  written  Moyer  a  let- 
ter some  time  before  this  and  told  him  to  send  me 
$100,  or  to  send  it  to  Jack  for  me,  and  also  told 
him  in  this  letter  that  I  had  sent  Shoddy  to  Gold- 
field,  Nev.,  to  do  that  job.  This  was  a  lie,  of  course, 
but  when  I  saw  the  account  of  Johnnie's  death,  I 
thought  I  would  take  advantage  of  it,  and  make 
Moyer  believe  this  man  had  done  this,  and  I  wrote 
him  to  this  effect,  and  also  wrote  Simpkins  at  Denver 
and  told  him  to  tell  Moyer.  He  answered  me  that 
he  did,  and  would  get  some  money  for  Charlie.  I  also 
told  them  that  Charlie  was  there  in  Salt  Lake  City 
with  me  now,  and  we  were  going  to  Caldwell  and  that 
I  had  money  to  take  us  there,  but  that  they  had 
better  send  me  $500  or  so  for  Charlie  to  Nampa, 
as  I  told  them  Charlie  was  to  stop  there  while  I 
was  looking  after  things  in  Caldwell.  When  I  did 
not  hear  anything  from  Charlie,  and  as  my  money 
was  getting  low  again,  I  left  for  Caldwell.  This  was 
about  the  middle  of  December,  1905. 

I  went  to  the  Saratoga  Hotel  at  Caldwell,  and  got 
an  answer  to  my  letter  that  I  sent  Pettibone  before 
leaving  Salt  Lake  City,  and  he  said  he  had  sent  my 
letter  to  Jack,  and  I  supposed  they  had  given  him 
the  money  for  me  to  give  Charlie.  A  while  after 
I  got  a  letter  from  Jack,  and  he  said  he  had  stopped 


THE    ASSASSINATION    OF    STEUNENBERG 

off  at  Salt  Lake  City  on  his  way  home  from  Denver 
to  see  me,  but  could  not  find  me  and  did  not  know 
where  I  had  gone.  He  sent  me  a  piece  of  a  type- 
written letter  that  he  had  received  from  Haywood, 
which  stated  that  he  thought  if  there  were  any  more 
remittances  for  assessment  work  that  they  had  better 
be  sent  through  him.  This  was  the  work  they  referred 
to  that  I  was  doing.  But  before  he  sent  me  any  money 
I  was  arrested.  I  told  them  I  was  looking  to  buy  a 
ranch,  and  I  saw  a  number  of  real  estate  men  about 
this.  I  had  stayed  at  the  Saratoga  Hotel  all  the 
time. 

On  Christmas  Day — which  was  Monday — I  saw 
Mr.  Steunenberg  going  to  his  brother's  about  noon 
— as  I  supposed,  for  a  Christmas  dinner — and  I 
watched  for  him  to  come  home  after  dark,  and  had 
a  pump  shot-gun  and  was  going  to  shoot  him  with 
buck-shot.  I  had  not  been  up  by  his  residence  long 
before  I  heard  him  coming,  and  started  to  put  my 
gun  together,  as  I  had  it  down  and  one  piece  hung 
on  each  side  of  me  with  a  cord  around  my  neck  under 
my  overcoat,  but  I  had  some  trouble  getting  it  to- 
gether, as  this  cord  bothered  me,  and  they  got  into 
the  house  before  I  got  it  together.  I  went  around 
the  house  and  waited  to  see  if  I  could  get  a  chance 
to  see  him  through  the  window,  but  I  think  he  went 
into  the  bath-room  shortly  after  coming  home,  and 
215 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

went  from  there  to  bed  and  had  no  light.  I  stood 
behind  a  tree  close  to  the  house  and  could  see  some 
one  in  the  bath-room,  but  the  steam  was  so  thick  I 
could  not  be  sure  it  was  him.  I  waited  there  until 
they  went  to  bed,  but  did  not  see  him,  and  then  went 
back  to  the  hotel.  I  buried  some  shot-gun  shells  under 
the  sidewalk  loaded  with  buck-shot  on  my  way  up,  as 
I  had  too  many,  and  did  not  want  any  left  in  my 
room  if  I  should  use  them. 

There  was  a  mask  ball  at  the  Saratoga  that  night, 
and  I  had  thought  if  I  shot  Governor  Steunenberg, 
I  could  easily  go  up-stairs  and  not  be  noticed,  as 
they  could  not  tell  me  from  anybody  else  in  the  crowd. 

I  did  not  see  Mr.  Steunenberg  again  until  the  next 
Thursday.  I  did  not  know  where  he  went  when  he 
was  away,  and  I  saw  his  son  on  the  street  one  day, 
and  I  spoke  to  him  and  asked  him  if  they  had  any 
sheep  to  sell.  I  thought  I  would  find  out  this  way 
where  his  father  went.  He  told  me  that  he  knew  noth- 
ing about  it,  as  his  father  attended  to  that,  but  he 
said  I  could  find  out  by  telephoning  to  his  father  at 
the  company  ranch  at  Bliss.  But  he  said  he  would 
be  home  the  next  day,  and  I  could  see  him  if  I  was 
there.  I  told  him  I  just  wanted  to  find  out  where  some 
sheep  could  be  bought,  as  a  friend  of  mine  wanted 
them  to  feed. 

The  next  day,  Friday,  I  went  to  Nampa  and 
216 


THE    ASSASSINATION    OF    STEUNENBERG 

thought  I  might  get  a  chance  to  put  the  bomb  under 
Governor  Steunenberg's  seat,  if  I  found  him  on  the 
train,  as  the  train  usually  stops  fifteen  to  twenty 
minutes  at  Nampa.  I  had  taken  the  powder  out  of  the 
wooden  box,  and  packed  it  in  a  little,  light,  sheet-iron 
box  with  a  lock  on,  and  I  had  a  hole  cut  in  the  top 
of  this  and  a  little  clock  on  one  side.  Both  this  and 
the  bottle  of  acid  were  set  in  plaster-Paris  on  the 
other  side  of  the  hole  from  the  clock  with  a  wire  from 
the  key  which  winds  the  alarm  to  the  cork  in  the  bot- 
tle. The  giant-caps  were  put  in  the  powder  under- 
neath this  hole,  and  all  I  had  to  do  was  to  wind  up 
the  alarm  and  set  it  and,  when  it  went  off,  it  would 
wind  up  the  fine  wire  on  the  key,  and  pull  out  the 
cork,  and  spill  the  acid  on  the  caps.  I  had  this  fitted 
in  a  little  grip  and  was  going  to  set  it,  grip  and  all, 
under  his  seat  in  the  coach,  if  I  got  a  chance.  I  went 
through  the  train  when  it  arrived  at  Nampa,  but  did 
not  see  Mr.  Steunenberg,  and  the  train  was  crowded, 
so  I  would  not  have  had  any  chance,  anyway.  I  saw 
Mr.  Steunenberg  get  off  the  train  at  Caldwell,  but 
missed  him  on  the  train. 

I  saw  him  again  around  Caldwell  Saturday  after- 
noon. I  was  playing  cards  in  the  saloon  at  the  Sara- 
toga, and  came  out  in  the  hotel  lobby  at  just  dusk, 
and  Mr.  Steunenberg  was  sitting  there  talking.  I  went 
over  to  the  post-office  and  came  right  back,  and  he  was 
217 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

still  there.  I  went  up  to  my  room  and  took  this  bomb 
out  of  my  grip  and  wrapped  it  up  in  a  newspaper 
and  put  it  under  my  arm  and  went  down-stairs,  and 
Mr.  Steunenberg  was  still  there.  I  hurried  as  fast  as 
I  could  up  to  his  residence,  and  laid  this  bomb  close  to 
the  gate-post,  and  tied  a  cord  into  a  screw-eye  in  the 
cork  and  around  a  picket  of  the  gate,  so  when  the 
gate  was  opened,  it  would  jerk  the  cork  out  of  the 
bottle  and  let  the  acid  run  out  and  set  off  the  bomb. 
This  was  set  in  such  a  way,  that  if  he  did  not  open 
the  gate  wide  enough  to  pull  it  out,  he  would  strike 
the  cord  with  his  feet,  as  he  went  to  pass  in.  I  pulled 
some  snow  over  the  bomb  after  laying  the  paper  over 
it,  and  hurried  back  as  fast  as  I  could. 

I  met  Mr.  Steunenberg  about  two  and  a  half  blocks 
from  his  residence.  I  then  ran  as  fast  as  I  could,  to  get 
back  to  the  hotel  if  possible  before  he  got  to  the 
gate.  I  was  about  a  block  and  a  half  from  the  hotel 
on  the  foot-bridge  when  the  explosion  of  the  bomb  oc- 
curred, and  I  hurried  to  the  hotel  as  fast  as  I  could.  I 
went  into  the  bar-room,  and  the  bartender  was  alone, 
and  asked  me  to  help  him  tie  up  a  little  package,  and  I 
did,  and  then  went  on  up  to  my  room,  intending  to 
come  right  down  to  dinner,  as  nearly  every  one  was 
in  at  dinner. 

I  was  going  to  take  some  things  out  of  my  room 
and  throw  them  away,  and  I  emptied  some  acid  I  had 
218 


FRANK   STEUNENBERG 


Ex-Governor  of  Idaho,  for  whose  murder  by  a  bornb  Secretary -Treas- 
urer Haywood  of  the  Western  Federation  of  Miners  was  tried. 


THE    ASSASSINATION    OF    STEUNENBERG 

in  a  bottle  into  the  sink,  and  put  the  bottle  in  my 
coat  pocket,  intending  to  take  it  down  and  throw  it 
away,  and  a  moment  after  doing  this,  there  was  a 
flash  like  a  pistol-shot  rang  out.  It  almost  unnerved 
me  for  a  moment,  but  I  soon  understood  what  it  was. 
I  had  taken  a  giant-cap  out  of  a  box  I  had  in  my 
grip  a  few  days  before,  to  try  it  to  see  if  they  were 
all  right,  as  I  had  had  them  a  good  while,  and  I  did 
not  try  this  and  forgot  to  take  it  out  of  my  pocket, 
and  there  must  have  been  a  little  acid  left  in  the  bottle 
I  put  in  my  pocket,  and  this  got  into  the  cap  and  ex- 
ploded it.  This  tore  my  coat  all  up,  but  did  not  hurt 
me  a  bit,  but  it  unnerved  me,  and  I  thought  every- 
body in  the  house  would  hear  it,  as  my  room  was 
directly  over  the  dining-room  and  everybody  was  in 
there  to  dinner.  I  had  another  coat  there  and  I  slipped 
that  on  and  hurried  down  to  dinner.  Everybody  was 
talking  about  Mr.  Steunenberg  being  blown  to  pieces, 
but  I  never  heard  a  word  about  the  explosion  of  the 
giant-cap  in  my  room.  I  think  everybody  was  excited 
about  the  explosion  and  did  not  hear  it,  or  did  not 
pay  any  attention  to  it. 

Now,  I  cannot  tell  what  came  across  me.  I  had 
some  plaster-Paris  and  some  chloride  of  potash  and 
some  sugar  in  my  room,  also  some  little  bottles,  and 
screw-eyes,  and  an  electric  flashlight,  and  I  knew 
there  might  be  some  little  crumbs  of  dynamite  scat- 
219 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

tered  around  on  the  floor.  I  intended  to  clean  the 
carpet,  and  throw  this  stuff  that  might  look  suspicious 
all  away,  and  I  had  plenty  of  time.  But  after  this  cap 
exploded  in  my  pocket,  something  came  across  me 
that  I  cannot  explain,  and  I  seemed  to  lose  my  reason- 
ing power  for  the  time,  and  left  everything  there  just 
as  they  were,  and  at  that  time  I  had  some  letters  and 
papers  in  my  pockets  that  would  have  looked  bad  and 
been  hard  for  me  to  explain. 

I  stood  around  there  until  about  ten  o'clock,  as  the 
hotel  was  jammed  full,  and  in  the  mean  time  a  special 
had  come  down  from  Boise,  and  they  were  sending 
out  men  to  surround  the  town  and  telephoning  to  the 
surrounding  towns.  About  twelve  o'clock  I  went  up 
to  Mr.  Steunenberg's  residence  with  the  hotel  clerk 
and  came  back  and  went  to  bed,  and  did  not  get  up 
until  about  eleven  o'clock  the  next  day — Sunday.  I 
went  down  and  read  the  papers,  and  was  sure  one  of 
the  suspects  referred  to  was  me.  Then  I  destroyed 
some  letters  and  papers  I  had,  and  began  to  pull  my- 
self together,  but  I  thought  they  were  watching  me 
and  I  was  afraid  to  start  to  clean  my  room  or  throw 
those  things  away,  and  thought  what  a  fool  I  had 
been  not  to  have  cleaned  every  suspicious-looking 
thing  out  of  my  room  the  night  before.  I  cannot  ac- 
count for  what  made  me  so  stupid,  as  I  well  knew  these 
things  would  look  suspicious,  and  it  would  be  hard 
220 


THE    ASSASSINATION    OF    STEUNENBERG 

for  me  to  explain  what  I  had  them  for,  if  I  was  called 
upon  to  do  so. 

I  just  began  to  realize  this  and  come  to  myself, 
and  would  have  gotten  rid  of  them  then  had  I  had 
a  chance.  I  did  go  up  to  my  room  and  took  a  fish-line 
off  a  reel  I  had  there  and  threw  it  in  the  water-closet, 
as  I  noticed  in  the  papers  that  they  referred  to  a  fish- 
line  or  cord  on  the  gate  at  Governor  Steunenberg's, 
and  I  had  used  a  piece  of  this  fish-line.  I  would  have 
cleaned  the  room  then  if  I  had  had  time.  I  could  not 
throw  all  this  other  stuff  in  the  toilet,  and  was  excited 
and  left  it  all  there,  and  even  left  the  gun  in  my  grip 
which  I  usually  carried.  I  had  always  said  that  I 
would  not  be  taken  alive,  but  did  not  value  my  life 
much  anyway,  and  would  sell  it  as  dearly  as  I  could, 
if  ever  suspected  of  anything  and  they  tried  to  arrest 
me.  I  am  sure  they  suspected  me  and  I  took  a  walk 
up  to  Mr.  Steunenberg's  residence  with  a  Caldwell 
man,  and  he  said  every  stranger  in  town  would  have 
to  give  an  account  of  himself. 

I  was  sitting  in  the  saloon  of  the  hotel  in  the  after- 
noon and  a  stranger  asked  me  to  take  a  little  walk, 
and  pretended  to  be  acquainted  with  me.  I  afterward 
learned  this  was  Sheriff  Brown,  of  Baker  City,  Ore. 
I  told  him  he  was  mistaken,  and  he  told  me  that  they 
suspected  me  of  having  something  to  do  with  the  assas- 
sination, and  he  said  he  told  them  that  he  thought 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

he  knew  me.  I  told  him  I  would  go  and  see  the  sheriff 
at  once,  which  I  did  and  asked  him  if  he  wanted  to 
see  me,  and  he  asked  me  if  I  was  going  away,  and 
I  told  him  I  was  not  at  the  present,  and  he  said  we 
would  have  a  talk  after  a  while.  I  went  over  to  the 
hotel  and  sat  down  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  sheriff 
came  over  and  said  he  would  have  to  arrest  me.  I  told 
him  all  right,  and  he  went  off  and  came  back  in  a 
few  minutes,  and  told  me  the  governor  had  ordered 
him  to  take  charge  of  my  things  that  were  in  my 
room,  and  he  said  he  would  parole  me  and  I  was  not 
to  leave  town  or  the  hotel.  I  have  forgotten  which. 

Then  I  thought  what  a  fool  I  had  been  to  leave  all 
those  things  in  the  room,  when  I  had  all  kinds  of 
chances  to  take  them  out,  and  had  even  let  them 
get  away  with  my  gun.  I  would  have  made  an  attempt 
to  get  away  that  night,  but  I  knew  they  were  watch- 
ing me,  and  again  if  I  had  succeeded  in  getting 
away  from  the  hotel,  it  was  bitter  cold  and  the  ground 
was  covered  with  snow,  and  therefore  I  made  no  at- 
tempt to  get  away.  I  knew  that  they  had  organized 
a  committee  to  investigate,  and  thought  they  might 
take  me  before  this  committee,  and  ask  me  to  explain 
what  I  had  such  stuff  for,  and  I  was  thinking  how 
I  would  answer  them  if  they  did. 

But  they  said  nothing  to  me  until  the  next  day — 
Monday — about  four  o'clock,  when  the  deputy  sheriff 
222 


THE    ASSASSINATION    OF    STEUNENBERG 

asked  me  to  go  over  to  the  district  attorney's  office, 
and  when  I  went  over  there  they  said  they  would  have 
to  search  me.  This  is  the  time  I  would  have  used  my 
gun  had  I  had  it.  They  searched  me  and  the  sheriff 
read  the  warrant  to  me,  and  they  said  they  wanted  me 
to  go  to  Boise  with  them.  We  went  over  to  the  depot 
and  waited  for  a  while,  and  then  they  took  me  up  to 
the  county  jail  at  Caldwell. 


223 


CHAPTER    SEVENTEEN 

MY    EXPERIENCE    IN    JAIL    AND    PENITENTIARY 

I  WAS  arrested  and  taken  to  jail  at  Caldwell  the 
evening  of  the  1st  day  of  January,  1906.  I  had 
never  before  been  arrested.  I  now  began  to  think 
over  my  past  life  and  what  it  had  brought  me  to, 
and,  oh,  how  I  regretted  that  I  had  allowed  myself 
to  be  arrested,  and  had  not  sold  my  life  as  dearly  as 
I  could  have  done,  and  ended  all,  as  I  felt  the  life 
I  had  lived  for  the  past  few  years  was  not  worth 
living  and  that  I  would  rather  be  dead  than  alive, 
and  felt  there  was  nothing  left  for  me  worth  living  for, 
and  why  suffer  the  humiliation  in  prison.  I  knew  it 
meant  a  long  siege  at  best,  and  I  knew  if  I  succeeded 
in  clearing  myself  of  this,  that  I  probably  would  have 
to  go  to  Colorado  and  face  other  charges  there. 

I  thought  of  ending  all,  and  that  when  my  dear 
mother  taught  me  many  long  years  before  about  God 
and  the  future  life  came  up  to  me,  and  I  could  not 
get  these  thoughts  out  of  my  mind,  although  I  had 
denied  them  for  years  and  tried  to  forget  them^  and 
said  many  times  that  the  hereafter  did  not  trouble 
224 


IN    JAIL    AND    PENITENTIARY 

me,  and  that  I  did  not  believe  in  any  hereafter,  but 
that  the  grave  ended  all.  But  now  when  this  stared 
me  in  the  face,  and  the  thought  came  of  taking  my 
own  life,  and  taking  the  desperate  leap  into  the  great 
beyond,  from  whence  there  is  no  return,  I  knew  then 
that  down  deep  in  my  heart  I  did  believe  there  was 
a  God  and  a  hereafter,  and  that  I  had  only  been  try- 
ing to  deceive  myself  all  these  years,  because  it  an- 
swered my  wicked  purpose  better.  Now,  although  I 
had  read  the  Bible  some  when  I  was  young,  I  had 
never  read  it  with  enough  interest  to  understand  it, 
and  remembered  very  little  of  it,  but  I  thought  it 
said  that  no  murderer  could  enter  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  or  would  not  be  forgiven.  This  troubled  me, 
for  I  felt  great  remorse  of  conscience  and  felt  re- 
pentant. I  tried  to  keep  up  the  bravado  spirit,  and 
appear  unconcerned  and  deny  the  charges  against  me, 
but  still  I  thought,  if  acquitted,  the  old  life  was  not 
worth  living,  and  I  wanted  to  be  sure  whether  there 
was  hope  for  me,  or  forgiveness,  or  if  I  had  com- 
mitted the  unpardonable  sin.  If  I  had  been  fully  con- 
vinced of  this  and  that  there  was  no  forgiveness  for 
me,  then  I  would  never  have  undergone  any  torture 
or  imprisonment,  as  I  would  have  had  nothing  to 
live  for. 

Haywood  and  Pettibone  had  always  told  me  if  I 
ever  got  arrested  not  to  wire  or  write  to  them,  but 
225 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

that  they  would  see  that  I  had  an  attorney  to  defend 
me  as  soon  as  it  was  possible,  and  when  Simpkins  left 
me  he  had  said,  if  I  got  into  trouble  and  had  to  have 
an  attorney,  he  would  send  Miller  or  Robinson,  of 
Spokane.  A  day  or  two  after  I  was  arrested  I  got 
a  telegram  from  Spokane  stating  that  Attorney  Fred 
Miller  would  leave  next  morning  for  Caldwell  to  rep- 
resent me.  This  telegram  was  not  signed,  but  I  un- 
derstood it.  I  waited  for  three  or  four  days  and  heard 
no  word  of  him,  but  in  the  mean  time  James  J.  Sul- 
livan, an  attorney  that  I  knew  from  Denver  and  a 
personal  friend  of  Pettibone's,  came  to  see  me,  but 
they  would  not  let  me  talk  to  him  alone.  He  said  he 
was  going  to  Baker  City  on  some  business,  and 
stopped  off  to  see  if  it  was  me  they  had  arrested.  I 
felt  sure  they  had  sent  him  to  me  from  headquarters. 
I  told  him  I  had  thought  of  wiring  him,  and  asked 
him  if  I  could  engage  him  to  defend  me,  but  he  shook 
his  head,  and  said  it  was  a  long  way  from  home,  and 
that  he  would  advise  me  to  employ  a  local  attorney, 
and  said  if  I  wished  he  would  look  around  and  get 
me  one.  I  told  him  I  had  expected  Mr.  Miller  from 
Spokane,  and  had  had  a  telegram  from  Spokane  a  few 
days  before  stating  that  he  would  leave  the  next 
morning  for  Caldwell,  but  had  heard  nothing  more 
from  him,  and  Sullivan  said  he  would  wire  him  and 
see  if  he  was  coming. 

226 


r 


HARRY    ORCHARD 


From  a  photograph  taken  in  January,  1906,  shortly  after  his  arrest 
for  the  murder  of  ex-Governor  Steunenberg. 


IN    JAIL    AND    PENITENTIARY 

He  sent  Mr.  Miller  the  telegram,  and  he  answered 
he  would  leave  for  Caldwell  on  the  next  train,  and 
he  arrived  there  the  next  day  or  so.  They  let  Mr. 
Miller  see  me  alone,  and  he  told  me  that  Jack  Simp- 
kins  had  sent  him,  and  that  he  had  started  when  I  got 
the  first  telegram.  I  think  he  said  he  got  as  far  as 
Walla  Walla,  and  they  called  him  back,  as  the  papers 
came  out  with  big  head-lines  charging  the  Western 
Federation  of  Miners  with  the  assassination  of  ex- 
Governor  Steunenberg,  and  they  did  not  want  it  to 
appear  that  any  one  had  been  sent  by  them  to  de- 
fend me,  but  thought  they  would  wait  until  I  wired 
them,  because  we  must  make  it  appear  that  I  was 
putting  up  my  own  defense,  and  keep  the  Federation 
out  of  it.  He  also  said  that  Robinson  had  told  him 
before  he  left  that  they  might  make  it  appear  that 
they  were  engaged  by  me  to  sue  Dan  Cordonia  to 
recover  the  interest  I  had  sold  him  in  the  Hercules 
mine  or  a  part  of  it,  so  as  to  have  it  look  as  if  they 
were  my  regular  attorneys.  I  spoke  about  them  being 
engaged  by  me  before  to  collect  damages  from  the 
railroad  company  for  holding  my  trunk,  but  he  said 
that  was  too  small  a  matter. 

I  did  not  know  Mr.  Miller  very  well,  having  only 

met  him  once,  and  I  told  him  I  was  going  to  put  up 

my  own  defense,  and  had  upward  of  $2,000,  and  had 

friends  that  would  see  me  through,  if  this  was  not 

227 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

sufficient.  He  asked  me  if  I  did  not  have  some  mining 
property,  or  some  friends  I  could  refer  him  to  that 
he  could  make  it  appear  were  putting  up  money  for 
my  defense.  I  told  him  I  would  give  him  an  order 
to  get  the  money  all  right.  He  said  Jack  had  only 
given  him  $100,  and  asked  me  if  I  did  not  have 
any  money  there.  I  told  Miller  I  had  only  a  few  dol- 
lars there  and  he  said  to  never  mind,  he  would  get 
some  money  from  home.  I  gave  him  an  order,  and 
told  him  to  see  J.  J.  Sullivan  and  have  him  send 
the  money  when  he  got  to  Denver.  I  told  him  Sullivan 
knew  Pettibone  and  would  get  the  money  all  right. 
I  also  gave  him  an  order,  or  told  him  to  see  Lewis 
Cutler,  of  Salt  Lake  City,  and  he  would  turn  him 
over  a  sixth  interest  in  some  mining  claims  he  had 
at  Goldfield,  Nev.  I  had  loaned  Mr.  Cutler  a  little 
money  at  different  times,  and  he  made  this  proposi- 
tion himself  the  last  time  I  saw  him  in  Salt  Lake  City. 
Mr.  Miller  stayed  until  after  my  preliminary  hear- 
ing, and  I  was  bound  over  to  the  district  court  with- 
out bail.  Mr.  Miller  then  left  for  Spokane,  and  said 
he  would  be  back  in  a  few  days,  and  stay  there  and 
work  on  the  case. 

Mr.   Swain,   of  the  Thiel  detective  agency,  from 

Spokane,  came  to  the  sheriff's  office  at  Caldwell,  and 

they  took  me  out  in  the  office,  and  he  asked  me  some 

questions,  and  I  answered  some  of  them.  I  told  him 

228 


IN    JAIL    AND    PENITENTIARY 

I  had  been  in  the  Coeur  d'Alenes,  and  had  been  out 
hunting  with  Jack  Simpkins  just  before  I  came  down 
here.  He  asked  me  if  I  knew  Haywood  and  Moyer, 
and  I  told  him  I  had  seen  them  and  was  slightly  ac- 
quainted with  them.  I  think  I  also  told  him  that  my 
name  was  not  Hogan,  but  Orchard,  and  that  I  had 
a  good  reason  for  going  under  an  assumed  name,  and 
would  give  the  reason  at  the  proper  time.  I  knew  I 
need  not  answer  any  questions,  but  I  thought  these 
things  could  be  easily  proved,  and  that  it  would  look 
better  for  me  to  answer  them.  Later  he  wanted  to 
question  me  further,  but  I  told  him  I  had  told  him 
all  I  had  to  say,  and  he  did  not  trouble  me  any 
more. 

I  was  in  Caldwell  jail  eighteen  days  and  they  re- 
Amoved  me  to  the  State  penitentiary  at  Boise.  Mr. 
Miller  wrote  me  two  or  three  letters  and  stated  he  was 
waiting  for  some  mail,  and  would  be  down  as  soon  as 
it  arrived.  I  think  I  had  been  at  the  penitentiary  about 
ten  days  or  two  weeks,  and  the  warden  took  me  out 
into  the  secretary's  office  and  introduced  me  to  an  old 
man — I  have  forgotten  the  name  he  used.  He  then 
went  out  and  left  us  alone.  I  do  not  remember  the  first 
part  of  our  conversation,  but  he  said  he  had  seen  a 
paper  with  my  picture  in  and  got  permission  to  come 
up  and  have  a  talk  with  me.  I  asked  him  who  he 
was  and  what  he  wanted  to  talk  to  me  for.  He  told  me 
289 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

he  was  a  detective,  and  went  on  and  said  perhaps  if 
he  had  kept  the  same  kind  of  company  I  had,  that 
perhaps  he  would  have  found  himself  in  the  same 
position  I  myself  was  in,  but  he  said  he  had  chosen 
the  right  course.  He  said  he  would  like  to  give  me 
some  good  advice  if  I  would  take  it.  I  told  him  I  did 
not  object  talking  to  him,  but  I  did  not  need  any 
of  his  advice,  and  protested  my  innocence,  and  said  I 
was  being  wrongfully  persecuted.  He  said  if  I  was  in- 
nocent I  was  the  victim  of  very  unfortunate  circum- 
stances, and  that  he  thought  I  had  left  a  bad  trail 
behind  me,  and  he  further  said  it  looked  bad  for  me 
going  in  and  out  of  Denver  so  much  and  visiting  Fed- 
eration headquarters.  He  further  said  he  did  not  be- 
lieve I  did  this  of  my  own  accord,  and  that  he  be- 
lieved I  was  in  a  position  to  be  of  great  benefit  to  the 
State.  I  told  him  I  knew  nothing  about  the  assassina- 
tion of  Mr.  Steunenberg  whatever,  and  that  I  did  not 
know  what  he  was  trying  to  get  at. 

He  asked  me  if  I  had  heard  of  the  Mollie  Maguires. 
I  told  him  I  had  heard  of  them,  but  did  not  know 
much  of  their  history.  He  started  to  tell  me  about 
them,  and  it  struck  me  right  away  that  he  was  Mc- 
Parland,  as  Haywood  had  given  me  a  description  of 
him  some  time  before.  I  asked  him  if  his  name  was  not 
McParland,  and  he  said  it  was.  He  then  went  on  and 
told  me  a  lot  of  the  history  of  the  Mollie  Maguires, 
230 


DETECTIVE    JAMES    McPARLAND 


IN    JAIL    AND    PENITENTIARY 

and  some  of  the  parts  he  had  played.  I  listened  to  him 
and  said  nothing  much.  I  think  at  first  he  asked  me 
about  my  people  and  if  I  believed  in  a  hereafter  and 
a  God.  I  think  I  told  him  I  believed  in  a  supreme  be- 
ing or  something  like  that.  He  also  told  me  he  believed 
I  had  been  used  as  a  tool.  I  think  that  was  about  the 
substance  of  what  he  said  to  me  the  first  time  he  came 
up,  and  he  asked  me  to  think  these  things  over  when 
I  went  back  to  my  cell.  I  protested  my  innocence  all 
through,  and  told  him  I  had  nothing  to  think  over. 
He  told  me  I  would  be  convicted  of  that  crime,  and 
that  I  would  think  of  the  words  he  had  told  me  after- 
ward. I  told  him  I  had  no  fear  of  being  convicted. 
When  he  left  he  said  that  perhaps  he  would  come 
up  and  see  me  again.  I  told  him  that  it  helped  to  pass 
away  the  time,  and  was  a  little  more  comfortable,  or 
was  a  change. 

I  think  it  was  two  or  three  days  when  he  came  back 
again,  and  I  think  he  started  in  on  my  belief  in  the 
hereafter,  and  spoke  of  what  an  awful  thing  it  was 
to  live  and  die  a  sinful  life,  and  that  every  man  ought 
to  repent  of  his  sins,  and  that  there  was  no  sin  that 
God  would  not  forgive.  He  spoke  of  King  David  being 
a  murderer,  and  also  the  Apostle  Paul.  This  inter- 
ested me  very  much,  but  I  did  not  let  on  to  him.  I 
think  I  asked  him  a  little  about  this,  and  he  told  me 
about  King  David  falling  in  love  with  Uriah's  wife, 
231 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

and  ordering  Joab,  the  general  of  his  army,  to  put 
Uriah  in  the  thick  of  the  battle,  and  then  ordering 
the  rest  to  retreat,  so  he  would  be  killed ;  and  of  St. 
Paul,  who  was  then  called  Saul,  consenting  to  the 
death  of  Stephen,  and  holding  the  young  men's  coats 
while  they  stoned  him  to  death.  I  wanted  to  ask  more 
about  these  things,  but  did  not  want  to  let  on  that 
they  interested  me.  He  also  told  me  of  some  cases 
where  men  had  turned  State's  evidence,  and  that  when 
the  State  had  used  them  for  a  witness,  they  did  not 
or  could  not  prosecute  them.  He  said,  further,  that 
men  might  be  thousands  of  miles  from  where  a  mur- 
der took  place  and  be  guilty  of  the  murder,  and  be 
charged  with  conspiracy,  and  that  the  man  that  com- 
mitted the  murder  was  not  as  guilty  as  the  conspira- 
tors, and,  to  say  in  a  word,  he  led  me  to  believe  that 
there  was  a  chance  for  me,  even  if  I  were  guilty  of 
the  assassination  of  Mr.  Steunenberg,  if  I  would  tell 
the  truth,  and  he  also  urged  me  to  think  of  the  here- 
after and  the  awful  consequences  of  a  man  dying 
in  his  sins.  He  further  said  he  was  satisfied  I  had  only 
been  used  as  a  tool,  and  he  was  sure  the  Western 
Federation  of  Miners  were  behind  this,  and  that  they 
were  about  to  their  limit,  and  had  carried  their  work 
on  with  a  high  hand,  but  that  their  foundation  had 
begun  to  crumble,  as  all  such  must  that  followed  a 
policy  that  they  had.  He  said  further  that  they  had 


IN  JAIL  AND  PENITENTIARY 
had  a  gang  of  murderers  at  their  head  ever  since  their 
organization.  He  told  me  plainly  he  could  not  make 
me  any  promises,  and  if  he  did  he  could  not  fulfil 
them,  but  he  said  he  would  have  the  prosecuting  at- 
torney come  up  and  have  a  talk  with  me.  I  told 
him  that  he  need  not  trouble,  I  had  not  told  him 
anything  nor  had  I  promised  to  at  this  time,  but  I 
told  him  to  come  up  again  the  next  day  and  I  would 
let  him  know  if  I  had  anything  to  tell  him. 

I  went  back  to  my  cell  that  night  and  tried  to  pray, 
and  thought  I  would  do  almost  anything  if  God  would 
forgive  my  sins.  But  my  past  life  would  come  up 
before  me  like  a  mountain,  and  I  feared  there  was  no 
chance  for  me.  I  thought,  though  the  authorities  in 
Idaho  would  let  me  go  clear  if  I  gave  evidence  and 
told  the  real  men  responsible  for  the  murder  of  Mr. 
Steunenberg,  that  there  were  so  many  other  crimes 
that  I  was  guilty  of  that  there  would  never  be  any 
chance  for  me.  The  only  real  hope  I  could  see  for  me 
was  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  all,  and  ask  God  to 
forgive  me,  but  I  felt  very  uncertain  about  this  and 
prayed  to  God  in  a  half-hearted  way,  and  I  felt  a 
little  hope  at  times,  and  then  I  would  doubt,  and  think 
of  self.  I  knew  well  the  methods  of  detectives,  and  did 
not  believe  many  things  Mr.  McParland  told  me; 
but  my  mind  was  in  such  a  state,  as  I  have  before  told 
you,  I  cared  little  what  did  become  of  me,  and  did 
233 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

not  want  to  live  any  longer  the  old  life,  and  when  I 
would  think  of  doing  away  with  myself,  the  awful 
hereafter  would  stare  me  in  the  face,  and  something 
seemed  to  say  to  me  that  there  was  still  hope.  But 
I  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  being  locked  up  and 
every  hour  seemed  like  a  month  to  me. 

Now  I  had  thought  before  I  ever  saw  Mr.  Mc- 
Parland  of  making  a  clean  breast  of  all,  but  I  would 
rather  have  him  get  the  evidence  than  any  one  I 
knew,  for  the  reason  I  knew  his  reputation,  and  knew 
there  would  be  nothing  left  undone  to  run  down  every- 
thing I  gave  him.  Then  there  came  a  doubt  in  my 
mind  that  this  might  not  be  Mr.  McParland.  I  told 
him  this  when  he  came  up  the  next  day,  and  as  he 
wore  an  Elk  charm  and  I  knew  the  Elks  always  car- 
ried a  card  that  they  used  to  make  themselves  known 
to  a  brother  Elk,  I  asked  him  if  he  would  mind  let- 
ting me  look  at  his  Elk's  card  to  satisfy  myself  that 
he  was  Mr.  McParland,  and  he  handed  me  his  card, 
as  he  said  no  Elk  was  ashamed  to  show  his  card. 
After  I  was  satisfied  of  this,  I  told  him  I  was  going 
to  tell  him  all,  and  that  he  need  not  send  the  prose- 
cuting attorney  up ;  that  I  would  not  ask  any  pledges, 
but  would  tell  the  truth,  and  felt  I  did  not  deserve 
any  consideration,  and  cared  very  little  what  became 
of  me. 

I  told  him  I  would  tell  him  my  life's  history,  and 
234 


IN    JAIL   AND    PENITENTIARY 

we  talked  over  a  part  of  my  career  that  day,  but 
nothing  in  connection  with  this  case,  and  the  next 
day  Mr.  McParland  came  up,  and  the  clerk  in  the 
penitentiary  took  down  my  statement.  I  began  at  the 
first  of  my  early  life,  and  finished  with  the  assassina- 
tion of  Mr.  Steunenberg,  but  I  kept  a  few  things  back 
that  I  thought  too  horrible  to  tell.  We  were  three 
days  at  this.  There  were  some  things  that  no  one  in 
this  country  knew  anything  of,  but  I  told  them  and 
in  a  way  felt  somewhat  relieved.  I  felt  that  I  had 
taken  the  right  step,  but  when  I  thought  of  the  awful 
ordeal  I  would  have  to  go  through  to  carry  this  out, 
and  that  I  must  face  these  men  and  give  evidence 
that  perhaps  would  send  us  all  to  the  gallows,  it 
seemed  terrible  to  me.  Sometimes  I  would  think  per- 
haps they  would  only  send  me  to  the  penitentiary  for 
life,  and  this  I  thought  would  be  worse  than  being 
hanged,  and  that  I  would  prefer  the  latter.  I  tried 
to  pray  and  ask  forgiveness,  but  this  only  in  a  half- 
hearted way.  Sometimes  I  felt  a  little  relieved,  but 
other  times  I  doubted,  and  I  was  very  much  in  doubt 
whether  God  would  forgive  such  a  sinner,  and  I 
thought  I  would  have  to  go  through  some  long 
lamentation,  and  the  greater  the  sinner  the  greater 
the  sacrifice  would  have  to  be  on  my  part.  I  wanted 
a  Bible,  but  would  not  ask  for  it,  and  I  did  not 
want  it  known  that  I  wanted  to  repent  of  my  sins. 
235 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 
I  longed  to  read  the  Bible,  but  did  not  want  any 
one  to  see  me  doing  so,  and  every  day  seemed  al- 
most like  a  year. 

During  this  time,  or  about  the  20th  of  February, 
1906,  they  brought  Hay  wood,  Moyer,  and  Pettibone 
to  the  penitentiary  and  a  day  or  so  later  they  brought 
Steve  Adams.  I  had  told  them  about  Adams  being 
mixed  up  in  other  things  besides  what  he  was  mixed 
up  with  me.  The  warden  asked  me  before  he  brought 
Adams  in  if  I  thought  best  to  put  him  in  my  cell, 
and  for  me  to  have  a  talk  with  him  and  persuade  him 
to  tell  the  truth.  I  told  him  I  would  do  the  best  I 
could,  and  that  I  would  tell  him  that  I  had  told  every- 
thing, but  not  at  first,  until  I  found  out  how  he  felt 
about  it. 

When  Adams  first  came  into  the  cell  he  did  not 
let  on  that  he  knew  me,  or  while  the  warden  or  guards 
were  there,  but  after  they  left  he  began  to  talk  to  me 
and  he  spoke  about  my  having  made  a  confession.  I 
laughed  it  off  and  partly  denied  it,  but  said  I  thought 
of  doing  so,  and  told  him  I  thought  it  would  be  bet- 
ter for  us  to  tell  the  truth  and  clear  everything  up 
and  be  done  with  it,  as  it  was  bound  to  come  out  some 
time,  as  so  many  knew  about  the  crimes  that  we  had 
been  mixed  up  in,  and  that  somebody  was  bound  to 
tell  of  them  some  time — if  not  while  they  were  up 
and  around,  some  one  would  make  a  death-bed  con- 


IN    JAIL    AND    PENITENTIARY 

fession ;  and  I  told  him  I  was  tired  of  such  a  life  and 
wanted  to  reform  and  ask  God's  forgiveness. 

He  said  at  first  that  he  could  not  think  of  such  a 
thing  and  spoke  of  the  disgrace  it  would  bring  upon 
his  people,  and  that  there  would  be  no  chance  for  us 
at  all,  and  he  wanted  me  to  go  on  through  the  trials 
and  then  we  would  tell  those  fellows  to  cut  that  kind 
of  work  out.  I  wanted  him  to  lead  a  better  life,  and 
told  him  I  could  not  rest,  and  that  my  conscience 
troubled  me  so  that  I  did  not  want  to  live  unless  I 
could  repent  and  be  forgiven,  and  that  I  did  not  feel 
as  though  I  could  repent  of  my  wrong-doing  unless 
I  told  all,  and  made  all  the  earthly  restitution  that 
was  within  my  power  to  society,  and  clear  my  own 
conscience.  He  thought  I  would  not  feel  any  better 
after  I  had  confessed  all.  I  also  told  him  there  might 
be  a  chance  for  us  to  save  our  lives,  as  we  had  only 
been  used  as  tools. 

I  talked  to  him,  I  think,  two  days  on  about  the  same 
lines,  and  he  did  not  change  his  mind  much,  if  any, 
and  finally  I  told  him  that  I  had  made  a  statement 
and  told  about  all,  and  he  asked  me  if  I  had  told  them 
about  him.  At  first  I  told  him  that  I  had  not,  and 
he  asked  me  to  promise  him  that  I  would  not,  and  I 
think  at  first  I  told  him  I  would,  but  I  finally  told  him 
that  I  had  made  a  clean  breast  of  everything,  and 
told  them  all  about  the  things  he  had  been  implicated 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

in  and  wanted  him  to  tell  the  truth.  He  said  at  first 
he  did  not  see  how  he  could  go  that  kind  of  a  route, 
and  asked  me  if  they  had  promised  me  anything.  I 
told  him  I  did  not  ask  them  to,  but  I  told  him  the 
party  that  I  had  made  my  confession  to  had  cited 
similar  cases,  and  that  those  that  had  been  used  as 
tools,  as  we  had  been,  had  not  been  prosecuted.  I  also 
told  him  that  I  did  not  know  if  this  were  true  or  not. 
After  I  had  told  him  all,  I  said  to  him  to  do  as  he 
pleased,  but  that  I  had  told  the  truth  and  was  going 
to  stand  by  it,  let  the  consequences  be  what  they 
would  to  myself  or  any  one  else. 

I  told  him  the  warden  wanted  to  have  a  talk  with 
him,  and  to  go  out  and  have  a  talk  with  him,  and 
a  few  minutes  afterward  the  warden  came  in  and 
asked  him  to  go  out  in  the  office,  and  he  did.  When 
he  came  back  in  he  said  the  warden  was  a  pretty  good 
talker.  I  think  that  same  afternoon  Mr.  Moore, 
Adams's  attorney  from  Baker  City,  Ore.,  came  up  to 
see  him.  He  did  not  tell  me  what  he  said  to  him,  but 
a  friend  and  neighbor  of  his  named  Bond,  from 
Haines,  came  with  Mr.  Moore,  and  Steve  told  me  that 
Bond  had  advised  him,  if  he  knew  anything  or  had 
been  used  as  a  tool  to  commit  any  crimes,  to  tell  the 
truth — or  that  would  be  his  advice  to  him.  Adams 
told  me  after  that  Moore  had  told  him  the  State 
hardly  ever  prosecuted  any  one  they  used  as  a  witness, 


IN    JAIL   AND    PENITENTIARY 

and  he  said  he  thought  he  would  do  as  I  had  done 
and  tell  the  truth.  He  said  that  Moore  had  gone  to 
Colorado  to  see  the  governor  and  find  out  if  they 
would  take  Steve  back  there  if  he  became  a  witness 
in  this  trial. 

Mr.  McParland  came  here  the  next  afternoon  and 
I  had  a  talk  with  him  and  told  him  I  thought  Adams 
would  make  a  confession,  but  perhaps  not  until  after 
Moore  had  come  back  from  Colorado ;  so  Adams  went 
out  in  the  office  and  had  a  talk  with  Mr.  McParland, 
and  he  told  him  he  would  make  a  confession  and  tell 
the  truth  in  everything,  and  the  next  day  Mr.  Mc- 
Parland and  his  private  secretary  came  up  and  took 
down  his  confession.  I  do  not  think  there  were  any 
threats  or  promises  of  any  kind  used.  Adams  never 
told  me  if  there  were. 

I  was  taken  sick  a  little  after  this  and  they  moved 
me  over  in  the  hospital,  and  a  day  or  two  later  they 
moved  Adams  over  there,  too,  and  we  had  a  room 
together.  My  mind  was  in  an  awful  condition  about 
this  time.  I  felt  that  I  did  not  want  to  live,  and  was 
afraid  to  die.  A  little  before  Haywood,  Moyer,  and 
Pettibone  were  arrested,  Miller,  my  attorney,  came 
back  and  came  to  see  me,  and  I  never  let  on  to  him 
I  had  made  any  confession.  He  told  me  he  had  been 
to  Denver,  that  he  had  waited  several  days  in  Spo- 
kane and  they  did  not  send  him  the  money,  and  he 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

thought  best  to  go  and  see  them.  He  said  Jack  Simp- 
kins  was  keeping  close,  that  they  were  hard  on  his 
trail.  I  asked  him  where  he  was,  but  he  did  not  tell 
me,  if  he  knew.  He  said  he  got  $1,500  from  Pettibone, 
and  he  said  they  were  all  scared,  and  he  said  Pettibone 
told  him  if  he  could  use  his  deposition,  all  right,  but 
that  he  would  not  go  to  Idaho  as  a  witness. 

Miller  further  said  he  stopped  in  Salt  Lake  City 
and  saw  Lewis  Cutler  about  the  interest  in  the  min- 
ing claims  at  Goldfield,  Nev.,  and  Cutler  told  him 
he  would  turn  it  over  to  me  any  time.  Miller  got  me 
a  suit  of  clothes  and  some  other  little  articles,  and 
came  to  see  me  two  or  three  times  before  Haywood, 
Moyer,  and  Pettibone  were  arrested,  and  then  he  put 
a  piece  in  the  paper  that  he  would  withdraw  from 
my  case  and  defend  the  Federation  officials.  I  sent  him 
a  letter  that  that  would  suit  me  all  right,  but  he 
came  up  to  see  me  after.  I  did  not  see  him  the  first 
time.  But  he  came  again  and  the  warden  brought  him 
in  the  hospital  to  see  me,  and  he  said  the  newspaper 
report  was  false,  that  he  had  not  stated  he  would 
withdraw  from  my  case.  I  told  him  that  I  had  made 
other  arrangements,  and  would  not  require  his  services 
any  longer. 

Mr.  McParland  came  up  a  few  days  later  and  said 
they  wanted  me  to  go  to  Caldwell  before  the  Grand 
Jury  and  give  some  evidence.  So  I  went  to  Caldwell 
240 


IN    JAIL    AND    PENITENTIARY 

before  the  Grand  Jury,  and  told  them  the  conversa- 
tion I  had  had  with  Moyer,  Haywood,  and  Pettibone 
in  regard  to  assassinating  Mr.  Steunenberg,  and 
how  I  carried  out  the  assassination.  I  came  back 
then,  and  about  a  week  later  Mr.  McParland  came 
up  again,  and  told  me  I  would  have  to  go  to  Cald- 
well  again  and  plead  to  the  indictment,  or  at  least 
to  go  before  the  court.  He  said  he  would  make  ar- 
rangements and  have  an  attorney  there  to  repre- 
sent me. 

The  next  day  I  went  to  Caldwell,  and  no  one  said 
anything  more  to  me,  and  when  I  went  into  court 
they  read  the  indictment  to  me,  and  I  expected  Mr. 
McParland  had  made  arrangements  for  an  attorney 
to  represent  me,  and  that  he  would  answer  for  me, 
but  no  one  answered  for  me,  and  the  judge  then  asked 
me  if  I  had  counsel,  and  no  one  said  anything.  He 
asked  me  then  if  I  wished  an  attorney,  and  I  told  him 
no,  and  he  said  I  was  entitled  to  one,  and  he  would 
appoint  Bryant  and  Cox  to  represent  me,  and  that 
I  could  take  the  statutory  time  to  plead.  Mr.  Bryant 
and  I  went  down  in  the  sheriff's  office,  but  I  told  him 
nothing  of  what  I  had  done.  I  thought  after  the  con- 
fession, as  I  intended  to  tell  the  truth,  I  was  going 
to  plead  guilty,  but  Mr.  Bryant  told  me  there  were 
three  pleas  I  could  enter,  guilty,  not  guilty,  or  not 
plead  at  all.  I  told  him  I  would  make  no  plea  then, 
241 


CONFESSIONS    OF    HARRY    ORCHARD 

and  we  went  up  before  the  court  then,  and  I  told  the 
judge  I  had  no  plea  to  make  and  he  instructed  the 
clerk  to  enter  a  plea  of  not  guilty. 

I  came  back  to  the  penitentiary  that  night,  and  felt 
pretty  blue,  and  felt  as  though  I  did  not  have  a  friend 
in  the  world,  after  Mr.  McParland  not  keeping  his 
word  in  regard  to  getting  me  an  attorney,  and  taking 
me  into  court  like  a  dummy,  and  I  not  knowing  what 
to  say  or  do.  I  came  back  feeling  more  blue  than  ever, 
and,  to  finish  up  everything,  when  I  came  back  that 
night  to  the  penitentiary,  they  had  my  things  moved 
back  out  of  the  hospital  into  a  cell,  and,  as  it  was 
pretty  cold  there,  and  I  was  not  feeling  very  well 
physically  and  worse  mentally,  I  just  broke  down 
again  and  felt  like  giving  up  entirely. 

I  did  not  get  up  the  next  day,  and  really  con- 
templated putting  myself  out  of  the  way,  and  wrote 
a  letter  to  my  brother  and  put  it  between  the  lining 
of  my  vest,  and  I  told  Adams  if  anything  happened 
to  me  to  send  this  letter  to  my  brother,  and  that  he 
would  find  the  address  on  the  letter.  I  think  I  told  him 
I  had  something  there  to  put  myself  out  of  the  way 
with,  but  I  had  nothing  in  particular  only  my  watch 
crystal.  I  was  thinking  of  pounding  this  or  the  elec- 
tric globe  up  and  swallowing  it,  but  I  hardly  knew 
what  effect  it  would  have.  I  had  heard  of  people 
pounding  up  glass  and  killing  dogs  with  it,  and  I 


IN    JAIL    AND    PENITENTIARY 

had  not  made  up  my  mind  definitely.  I  was  •  only 
thinking  about  it.  When  I  would  think  of  the  here- 
after, something  seemed  to  say  to  me  not  to  do  it, 
but  there  was  hope  for  me,  and  I  would  pray,  but 
oh,  I  had  no  heart  to  pray.  But  I  am  sure  now,  that 
I  had  dear  ones  praying  for  me  and  God  heard  their 
prayers,  and  kept  me  from  making  the  last  desperate 
leap  into  the  Great  Beyond.  I  was  not  very  well  and 
the  cells  were  very  cold  and  the  warden  moved  us  back 
in  the  hospital. 

Shortly  after  this  Steve  told  his  wife  about  my  writ- 
ing this  letter,  and  she  told  the  warden,  and  Mr.  Mc- 
Parland  and  Governor  Gooding  came  up  to  see  me, 
and  Mr.  McParland  asked  me  about  it,  and  told  me 
he  understood  I  had  the  means  of  destruction  on  my 
person,  and  that  he  wanted  me  to  give  it  to  him.  I 
told  him  what  I  had  thought  of,  but  that  I  had  not 
thought  seriously  of  it,  and  that  he  need  have  no 
fear,  as  I  felt  better.  He  talked  to  me  about  the  here- 
after, and  that  to  do  or  to  think  of  such  a  thing 
was  awful,  and  that  there  was  no  possible  hope  then ; 
but  said  if  I  would  truly  and  sincerely  repent  and 
pray  for  forgiveness  that  there  was  no  sin  that  God 
would  not  forgive.  He  told  me  he  had  been  praying 
nearly  all  day,  as  he  had  had  word  that  his  nephew, 
whom  he  thought  a  great  deal  of,  had  been  killed 
in  a  wreck  near  Florence,  Col.,  and  had  been  virtu- 
243 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

ally  burned  alive.  His  talk  helped  me  a  great  deal, 
and  I  felt  ashamed  of  myself,  and  also  felt  provoked 
at  Adams  for  telling  such  a  thing ;  and  I  don't  think 
that  I  ever  would  have  carried  it  out,  as  I  was  not 
sure  that  it  would  have  killed  me,  and  I  had  not  fully 
decided  to  do  it.  If  I  had  had  a  gun  I  believe  there 
were  times  when  I  would  have  ended  all. 

Soon  after  this  some  missionary  society  in  Chicago 
sent  me  a  Bible,  and  the  deputy  brought  it  in  to  me, 
and  I  felt  mean  and  told  him  to  take  it  out,  as  I  did 
not  want  it,  and  at  the  same  time  I  longed  for  it,  but 
did  not  want  any  one  to  know  or  see  me  reading  it. 
I  had  been  trying  to  pray  and  ask  forgiveness  of  my 
many  sins,  but  in  a  very  half-hearted  way,  and  I  felt 
more  miserable  than  ever  then,  and  resolved  I  would 
ask  for  this  Bible,  but  kept  putting  it  off  from  day 
to  day.  At  last  I  asked  the  warden  to  bring  it  in 
to  me,  and  I  began  to  read  it.  I  was  not  long  read- 
ing it  through,  and  I  could  not  find  anything  in  it 
that  said  no  murderer  could  enter  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  and  I  prayed  earnestly  for  forgiveness,  and 
read  and  reread  the  glorious  promises,  and  deter- 
mined not  to  give  up  before  I  found  peace  and  par- 
don. True,  I  was  long  weeks  and  months  before  I 
found  the  light  or  even  the  dawn,  but  I  kept  praying 
and  persevering.  I  had  no  thought  of  turning  back ; 
I  never  doubted  God's  word  and  promises,  I  only 
1*4 


IN    JAIL   AND    PENITENTIARY 

doubted  because  of  my  own  weakness.  This  peace 
crept  in  a  little  at  a  time,  and  I  can  hardly  tell  when 
or  how,  but  I  at  last  began  to  realize  the  change,  and 
took  great  delight  in  reading  the  Bible  and  pray- 
ing earnestly  to  God  several  times  a  day.  I  had  it 
in  my  head  I  was  such  a  sinner  that  I  had  to  go 
through  some  long  lamentation,  and  the  greater  the 
sin,  the  more  God  would  require  of  us  before  He 
would  forgive  us. 

Mr.  McParland  had  asked  me  if  I  would  like  to 
have  a  minister  come  up  and  see  me,  and  I  told  him 
I  would.  He  asked  me  if  I  would  like  to  have  Rev. 
Dean  Hinks  of  the  Episcopal  Church.  He  said  he 
had  met  him,  and  thought  he  was  a  good  man,  and 
he  came  up  to  see  me,  and  has  come  occasionally  ever 
since,  and  has  been  a  great  comfort  and  help  to  me 
spiritually.  He  also  brought  me  several  good  books 
that  have  enlightened  me  very  much,  and  thank  God 
to-day  that  I  know  I  am  a  sinner  saved  by  grace, 
through  no  good  merits  of  mine,  but  all  through 
the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ,  our  blessed  Saviour  and 
Redeemer.  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  I  have  all  clear 
sailing,  far  from  it.  I  have  one  continual  battle  to 
overcome  my  wicked  and  deceitful  heart,  but  I  praise 
God  that  His  grace  is  sufficient. 

I  thought  at  first  that  this  was  not  right,  and  that 
God  had  not  forgiven  me.  These  thoughts  would  arise 
245 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

in  my  mind,  and  I  thought  this  had  not  ought  to 
be.  I  had  no  desire  to  do  them,  but  I  would  think  of 
them  often  and  try  to  get  them  out  of  my  mind,  and 
I  praise  God  they  don't  arise  as  much  as  they  used 
to.  But  I  have  found  as  I  read  the  experience  of  many 
noble,  good  men  in  the  books,  in  which  they  give  their 
experience,  that  Jesus  Christ  is  the  only  way  that  we 
can  approach  God's  throne  and  plead  His  mercy,  as 
Jesus  is  our  mediator  and  redeemer,  who  took  upon 
Himself  our  sins.  It  all  seems  clear  to  me  now. 

I  only  give  this  as  my  experience,  hoping  that  it 
may  help  some  one  if  they  have  or  should  have  a 
similar  struggle.  I  would  not  go  through  such  re- 
morse and  torment  again  for  all  the  world.  This  may 
seem  an  exaggeration  to  some,  but  it  is  true,  never- 
theless. Any  one  that  has  had  such  a  struggle  and 
prevailed  can  readily  grasp  the  truth  of  my  state- 
ment. 

I  will  now  tell  you  what  I  believe  saved  me.  It  was 
the  prayers  of  a  dear  loving  wife,  whom  I  had  shame- 
fully and  disgracefully  left  many  years  before  with 
a  darling  little  baby  girl  about  six  months  old.  As  I 
have  related  how  this  came  about,  I  need  not  repeat 
here,  only  to  say  that  when  God  took  away  the  bit- 
terness out  of  my  heart  and  let  His  love  shine  in,  then 
the  former  love  I  had  for  my  wife  returned,  stronger 
than  ever,  if  that  were  possible,  and  I  longed  to  know 
246 


IN    JAIL    AND    PENITENTIARY 

if  she  was  alive,  or  what  had  become  of  her  and  our 
little  baby  girl,  as  my  mind  was  made  up  then  to  tell 
the  whole  truth  regardless  of  the  consequences  to  my- 
self or  anybody  else. 

I  knew  I  would  have  to  tell  my  true  name,  and  then 
all  would  come  out,  and  I  asked  Mr.  McParland  to 
write  to  Road  Macklon,  Brighton,  Ontario,  Canada, 
and  ask  him  if  he  knew  anything  about  Albert  E. 
Horsley  or  his  wife.  Mr.  McParland  wrote  to  Mr. 
Macklon,  but  he  was  dead,  but  Mrs.  Macklon  an- 
swered and  said  that  nothing  was  known  of  me.  I  was 
supposed  to  have  gone  West  several  years  before, 
but  that  Mrs.  Horsley  and  her  daughter  lived  at 
Wooler.  I  then  wrote  my  dear  wife  and  told  her  the 
trouble  I  was  in,  and  asked  her  to  forgive  me.  I  also 
told  her  that  I  had  accepted  Jesus  Christ  as  my 
Saviour  and  found  peace  at  last.  I  got  a  letter  from 
her  that  broke  my  heart,  but  only  made  me  cling  closer 
to  the  Crucified  One.  She  said  that  she  had  forgiven 
me  years  ago,  and  had  never  ceased  to  pray  for  me 
and  never  would.  I  will  leave  the  reader  to  imagine 
the  rest  she  said  to  me.  I  will  only  say  further  that 
there  never  was  a  harsh  word  written  in  any  of  her 
letters,  and  her  dear  letters  and  those  of  our  darling 
little  girl  from  time  to  time  have  been  a  great  source 
of  comfort  to  me,  and  they  make  me  cling  closer  to 
Jesus,  knowing  if  I  never  am  permitted  to  meet  them 
247 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

here  below  again,  I  can  meet  them  up  yonder  where 
meeting  and  parting  will  be  no  more,  if  I  am  faithful 
until  death,  and  this  makes  heaven  seem  dearer  than 
ever  to  me. 

After  I  had  read  my  Bible  a  good  deal  and  felt 
my  sins  forgiven,  I  tried  to  talk  to  Steve  Adams  and 
his  wife  to  reform  and  lead  a  new  life,  and,  although 
I  hardly  knew  what  to  say  to  them  as  yet,  I  was  some- 
what in  doubt  myself.  They  had  the  same  answer  that 
so  many  have,  that  they  intended  to,  as  soon  as  they 
got  out  of  that  trouble  they  were  going  to  join  the 
church  and  live  better  lives.  Steve  and  his  wife  lived 
over  in  a  house  in  the  woman's  ward,  and  I  went  over 
there  for  a  time  and  had  my  meals  with  them,  and  I 
talked  some  to  them  of  my  experience  and  determina- 
tion to  lead  a  new  life  from  this  time,  and  tried  to 
persuade  them  to  do  the  same.  After  Steve  went  to 
Telluride,  Col.,  with  the  officers,  to  locate  the  bodies 
of  two  men  who  had  been  murdered  there  by  the 
Federation  leaders,  and  which  Steve  had  helped  to 
bury,  they  brought  my  meals  in  to  me  from  that 
time,  and  I  saw  Steve  only  on  Saturdays  after  this, 
except  a  time  or  two  when  I  went  over  there  on  Sun- 
day. He  came  to  the  men's  department  on  Saturday 
forenoon  while  the  women  took  a  bath.  I  never  have 
gone  around  among  the  men  here  much.  I  usually 
stayed  in  my  room,  or  was  out  walking  by  myself. 
248 


IN    JAIL    AND    PENITENTIARY 

When  Steve  came  in  the  yard  on  Saturday,  at  first 
he  always  came  up  where  I  was,  and  we  talked  to- 
gether, but  all  at  once  he  stopped  coming  around 
where  I  was  at  all,  and  when  he  came  over  in  the  men's 
yard,  he  would  stay  down  in  the  yard  and  talk  to 
some  of  the  men.  I  asked  Mr.  Whitney  if  he  knew 
what  Steve  was  offended  at,  and  he  said  he  did  not. 
He  had  always  told  me  that  he  was  glad  that  he  had 
told  all,  and  believed  we  would  come  out  all  right, 
and  his  wife  expressed  herself  that  way,  too;  but  I 
knew  from  little  things  they  would  say  from  time  to 
time  that  they  blamed  me  for  telling  all  and  getting 
them  into  this  trouble,  and  Mrs.  Adams  said  if  she 
had  been  here  she  would  have  stopped  Steve  from  tell- 
ing anything,  and  without  them  they  could  never  con- 
vict Haywood,  Moyer,  and  Pettibone.  I  never  said 
much  back  to  them  at  such  times,  and  other  times 
they  would  say  they  were  glad  to  have  it  over  with. 
Mrs.  Adams  knew  about  a  great  many  of  these  crimes, 
as  Steve  told  her  everything. 

Steve's  brother  Joe  came  later,  and  also  Mary 
Mahoney,  a  woman  from  Telluride,  Col.,  and  they  sent 
letters  to  Steve,  and  Joe  would  slip  them  to  Steve 
when  he  was  visiting  him.  Steve  would  show  these  to 
the  officials  here  and  laugh  about  them.  They  were 
trying  to  get  him  to  see  the  Federation  lawyers,  and 
told  him  in  these  notes  that  it  made  no  difference  what 
249 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 
he  had  told,  that  they  could  not  use  it  against  him, 
and  that  they  were  his  friends  and  would  stand  by 
him.  Steve  paid  no  attention  to  these  things  at  first, 
but  his  uncle,  Mr.  Lillard,  who  had  been  here  several 
times  to  see  him,  came  up  and  had  dinner  with  them, 
and  the  next  day  or  so  the  Federation  lawyers  got 
out  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus  for  Steve,  and  he  was  re- 
leased, but  immediately  arrested  and  afterward  taken 
to  Wallace,  Idaho,  and  charged  with  the  murder 
of  a  man  by  the  name  of  Tyler.  He  had  told  me  all 
about  killing  Tyler  and  Boule  and  the  others  that 
were  with  him.  Simpkins  also  told  me  the  same  story, 
and  showed  me  where  they  killed  Boule,  when  I  was 
up  there  hunting  with  him.  I  know  Steve  Adams  and 
his  wife  told  the  truth  in  everything  that  I  knew 
about,  though  there  were  many  things  that  he  had 
told  me  that  he  had  done  of  which  I  did  not  have  per- 
sonal knowledge,  but  he  told  them  in  his  confession 
just  the  same  as  he  had  told  me,  and  I  have  not  the 
least  doubt  but  what  he  told  the  whole  truth,  and 
would  have  stood  by  it  if  they  had  not  brought  some 
pressure  to  bear  upon  him.  What  this  was  I  do  not 
know. 


250 


CHAPTER    EIGHTEEN 

MY    REASON    FOR    WRITING    THIS    BOOK 

I  HAVE  been  severely  criticized  by  a  certain  class 
for  writing  this  awful  story  of  mine,  and  I  want 
to  make  a  little  explanation  here  why  I  do  so. 
I  have  not  written  it  through  any  malice  or  prejudice 
against  any  individual  or  organization,  but  knowing 
all  that  I  did  through  my  connection  with  the  Western 
Federation  of  Miners,  after  I  had  been  brought  into 
the  light  in  and  through  the  tender  mercies  of  our 
Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ  I  felt  it  a  duty  that 
I  owed  to  God  and  humanity  to  do  all  that  laid  in 
my  power  to  expose  and  stop  these  crimes  and  out- 
rages. I  hope  I  will  be  excused  for  these  broken  words, 
but  let  the  reader  remember  that  my  education  is  very 
limited.  By  the  help  of  God  I  have  undertaken  to 
put  these  facts  before  the  public,  that  it  may  enlighten 
the  great  masses  of  the  laboring  class,  and  especially 
the  members  of  the  Western  Federation  of  Miners, 
so  that  the  rank  and  file  of  this  organization  may 
know  just  what  sort  of  leaders  they  have  been  fol- 
251 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

lowing  all  these  years,  and  also  what  a  great  amount 
of  their  money  has  been  spent  for.  I  know  that  these 
outrages  and  crimes  look  too  horrible  to  be  believed, 
and  most  of  them  would  appear  to  do  more  harm  than 
good  to  the  organization,  but  this  is  the  very  point, 
for  this  helped  them  to  get  out  of  many  of  the  charges 
that  have  been  laid  at  their  door,  and  they  always 
have  succeeded  in  making  it  appear  that  the  mine 
operators  had  hired  men  to  commit  these  outrages  so 
as  to  persecute  them. 

I  believe  that  a  very  small  percentage  of  the  Fed- 
eration know  or  believe  these  crimes  have  been  com- 
mitted from  time  to  time  with  the  sanction  and  at  the 
request  of  the  head  officers  of  their  organization. 
These  leaders  were  always  very  particular  to  get  men 
on  the  executive  board  that  favored  this  work,  and 
if  they  were  not  active  they  favored  it  by  their  silence. 
I  have  no  doubt  but  some  of  them  kept  silent  out  of 
fear  for  their  lives,  but  many  were  very  active  in  ad- 
vancing this  work.  You  may  say  that  the  books  were 
always  audited  at  every  convention,  but  the  executive 
board  had  gone  over  them  first,  and  they  had  them 
fixed  so  no  auditing  committee  could  find  out  any- 
thing about  this  emergency  fund,  and  it  would  take 
months  to  go  over  these  accounts  during  some  of  the 
time  when  there  were  strikes.  A  half  a  million  dollars 
or  thereabouts  have  been  handled  during  a  year,  and 
252 


MY   REASON   FOR   WRITING   THIS  BOOK 

several  stores  run,  and  relief  dealt  out  to  thousands 
in  small  amounts — so  you  must  see  at  a  glance  how 
impossible  it  is  for  any  auditing  committee  to  audit 
these  accounts  in  a  few  days.  As  the  delegates  are 
all  miners  and  not  experts  at  this  work,  they  could 
not  find  out  much  about  the  accounts,  and  would  run 
over  the  accounts  in  three  or  four  days  and  hand  in 
their  reports,  which  were  more  a  form  than  real  au- 
diting. The  leaders  in  these  conventions  had  no  trouble 
in  running  the  convention,  and  the  local  unions  usu- 
ally sent  their  leaders  to  these  conventions  as  dele- 
gates. 

Now  I  know  during  the  last  four  years  that  there 
has  been  a  vast  amount  of  money  spent  for  this  work. 
I  have  received  about  $4,000  myself,  besides  $1,600 
paid  to  Miller  by  Pettibone  and  Simpkins  to  defend 
me;  but  what  has  been  paid  to  us  tools  to  actually 
do  the  work  has  been  only  a  small  amount  of  it.  The 
bills  of  the  attorneys  that  have  been  employed  to  de- 
fend the  men  engaged  in  this  work,  and  also  the  offi- 
cers from  time  to  time,  will  run  up  perhaps  in  the 
hundreds  of  thousands. 

Now  I  have  told  my  story  on  the  witness-stand  in 
the  trial  of  Haywood — not  because  I  wanted>to  take 
him  or  any  of  these  men  down  with  me,  but  because 
I  could  see  no  other  way  for  me  to  do  what  I  believed 
was  my  solemn  duty.  I  never  felt  that  I  would  be 
253 


CONFESSIONS  OF  HARRY  ORCHARD 

forgiven  by  God  until  I  fully  decided  on  this  course. 
I  know  many  men  that  were  marked  for  death,  and 
had  every  reason  to  believe  that  sooner  or  later  the 
plan  to  kill  them  would  be  carried  out,  and  perhaps 
some  other  man  would  find  himself  in  the  same  posi- 
tion that  I  am  in  to-day.  This  work  had  been  going 
on  before  Haywood  and  Moyer  were  at  the  head  of  the 
Western  Federation  of  Miners,  and  before  I  knew 
anything  about  it,  and  I  had  every  reason  to  believe 
that  it  would  continue.  I  could  see  no  other  way  that 
I  could  make  earthly  restitution  to  society  for  my 
wrong-doing,  except  to  publicly  confess  all,  regard- 
less of  the  consequences  of  myself  or  any  one  else. 
My  sympathy  is  with  all  those  that  were  connected 
with  me  in  these  horrible  outrages  against  God's 
creatures.  I  pray  continually  for  them  that  they  may 
see  the  error  of  their  way  before  it  is  eternally  too 
late. 

I  have  told  the  truth  in  this  awful  trial.  God  alone 
has  given  me  strength  to  openly  confess  to  those 
crimes.  My  conscience  is  clear.  I  know  I  have  done 
what  was  right  and  made  all  the  earthly  restitution 
that  is  within  my  power.  Mr.  Haywood  has  been  ac- 
quitted. I  can  truthfully  say  I  would  far  rather  see 
him  acquitted  than  hanged.  I  believe  the  trial  will  do 
much  good,  as  I  do  not  believe  these  leaders  of  the 
Federation  will  take  a  chance  again  with  any  one 
254 


MY    REASON    FOR   WRITING   THIS  BOOK 

for  the  sake  of  revenge  upon  those  that  oppose  this 
organization.  My  earnest  prayer  is  in  closing  this 
awful  tale,  that  it  will  be  the  means  of  stopping  this 
kind  of  work  forever. 


THE   END 


255 


CENTRAL  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
University  of  California,  San  Diego 

DATE  DUE 


JU1M  1Z  iy«U 

JUN  0  3  1980 

NOV  1  2  1980 

rruv  g  2  i^u 

C/39 

t/CSD  Liftr. 

L|BRARY  FACILITY 


000714085     8 


